


Beguiled

by Heatherlly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:19:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heatherlly/pseuds/Heatherlly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hated her for offering a temptation he was powerless to resist. She despised him because she could not stay away. This is a retelling of the beautiful catastrophe known as Cenred and Morgause, whose powerful lust could only be matched by their lust for power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting

**Title:** Beguiled  
 **Category:** Het (Canon)  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Cenred/Morgause  
 **Rating/Warnings:** M  
 **Summary:** He hated her for offering a temptation he was powerless to resist. She despised him because she couldn't stay away. This is a retelling of the beautiful catastrophe known as Cenred and Morgause, whose powerful lust could only be matched by their lust for power.

* * *

#  **Chapter 1: Meeting**

* * *

"Halt!" an unknown voice commanded sharply. "Show yourself!"

Morgause rolled her eyes in exasperation, then affected a guileless smile as she turned and lowered her hood. "Yes?" she inquired with all the sweetness she could muster.

The guard adjusted the torch in his hand to have a better look at her face. "I-ah... what brings you here, my lady?"

"I've come to see your king." As if _that_ wasn't blatantly obvious.

The man's interested gaze drifted lower, lingering upon the full breasts that were half exposed in her rich velvet gown. And then finally, he cleared his throat, lifting his watery blue eyes to meet her amused stare. 

_Men... such predictable creatures,_ Morgause thought scornfully.

"It's after midnight. What business could a lady of quality such as yourself have with the king that cannot wait until morning? You're obviously not one of..."

"One of Cenred's whores?" she helpfully supplied when he trailed off, his face turning red with embarrassment. "No, I am not. Nonetheless, it's imperative that I see him. If you'll excuse me..."

And with that, she turned on her heel and strode purposefully in the direction of the large double doors that led to the throne room.

"My lady, wait! The king is... indisposed! You mustn't go in there!" the guard called urgently, and Morgause sighed as she heard swift footfalls behind her. She was tempted to dispose of the fool right then and there, but restrained herself with the reminder that killing Cenred's guards probably wouldn't be the best way to begin negotiations. Ignoring the hapless man's protests, she whispered an incantation that blew the doors wide open with a resounding bang.

The king was sprawled lazily across his throne, leather breeches unfastened and pushed down to his thighs. A long, elegant hand rested on top of the mass of tangled brown hair in his lap as the woman's head bobbed up and down with a ridiculous flurry of theatrical moans and loud sucking noises.

"May I help you?" he questioned with a hint of sarcasm, seeming unruffled by the dramatic entrance.

"My name is Morgause."

"So I assumed. I already responded to your letter; did I not say I would meet with you in a month's time?"

Morgause flashed him a benign smile. "I informed you I was coming. I never said I intended to wait for your invitation."

Cenred closed his eyes, letting out a low groan of pleasure before making a visible effort to control himself. "Grounds for an extended stay in my dungeons for anyone else. In your case, however, I'll make an exception."

"How generous of you. Perhaps you might ask your guest to leave so we can speak privately?"

"Presumptuous to a fault, my lady. You may choose to barge in on me in the middle of the night; I am not responsible for what you'll find when you do. Alas, I have no intention of sending my guest away until I've had my pleasure." He paused, shooting her a wicked look. "Unless you'd like to take her place, of course."

Morgause snorted. "Not a chance."

"Well then, I suppose you'll just have to wait until I'm done. I'm afraid I'm swiftly reaching the point where intelligent conversation will no longer be an option."

"Like it was to begin with?"

Cenred let out an appreciative chuckle, his laughter trailing off into a sudden hiss as he scrabbled for the arm of his throne, gripping the iron surface so hard his knuckles turned white. Morgause sank down into a nearby chair, watching with interest as his head fell back, eyelids fluttering closed as his lips parted to emit a succession of harsh, rasping pants. 

The man was quite attractive, really, particularly in the throes of passion. Morgause liked his long , lean body, especially when clad in leather, which highlighted his sleek frame. Perhaps it wasn't the most practical clothing he could've chosen, no doubt responsible for at least some of the sweat that glistened upon his skin as he neared his release. But then again, that was probably irrelevant to him at the moment.

Pleasure... every man wore it differently. Most of them looked or sounded ridiculous when they began to lose control; Morgause had been unfortunate enough to learn that through quite a bit of experience. Not Cenred though – his finely sculpted features only became more fierce, more primal with his increasing need. And when he began to groan aloud, a deep, husky sound that ended on an enticing growl, she was surprised to realize she was aroused. 

Perhaps she should have taken him up on his offer to trade places with the whore? No, certainly not. A woman like herself was meant to be serviced, not the other way around.

Cenred would learn that soon enough.

* * *

"Now then," Cenred said mildly once he'd recovered enough to fasten his breeches, dismissing the woman who'd satisfied his needs without a second glance. "May I offer you a drink, my lady?"

"No... but you might want to get one for yourself. You're sweating like a pig in all that leather. It's quite undignified, really."

He smirked as he reached for a nearby pitcher. "A fine idea. You should be reprimanded for your impudence, of course, but why spoil my good mood? Why don't we cut to the chase instead? I do need to get some sleep sooner or later."

Morgause rolled her eyes. "I've come to talk about..."

"Uther," Cenred said flatly, as something dark flitted across his features. "Yes, I know."

"I want him dead."

"As do I, dear lady. What's your point?"

"Let me rephrase that," she amended, treating him to a sweet smile. "I intend to kill him."

"Indeed? And how exactly do you mean to pull that off? Camelot boasts the most well guarded fortress in five kingdoms; believe me, if it was as simple as walking into the palace and murdering the bastard, I would've done it years ago."

Morgause stood up and sauntered over to the throne. "You're absolutely correct. Separately, we lack the strength, but together..."

Cenred scoffed, though he was clearly interested in the generous view of cleavage she provided as she leaned over his chair. "I have a formidable army at my disposal. Power, lands, riches... I still can't claim to be any match for Uther Pendragon. What do you think you have to offer that will change that? Magic tricks?"

With a great deal of effort, Morgause suppressed a sharp retort. Patience... this man would be putty in her hands soon enough. That would be the time to make him pay for his careless dismissal of her powers; meanwhile, it was crucial not to run the risk of alienating him before she'd even won him to her side.

"Your guard... the one who accosted me just before I entered your hall? He's patrolling the outer perimeters right now. I can sense his presence."

"So? Even if you're correct, what does that prove? A few minutes observation or even just a lucky guess would be enough to predict that much."

"Fair enough," Morgause grudgingly conceded. "But would it be a matter of 'luck' if I were to strike him dead from this distance?"

Cenred was obviously struggling to control his laughter. "Why don't you give it a try? I could use the entertainment."

"As you wish."

And then the words flowed from her like water, echoing around the cavernous hall as she recited the familiar spell. The skeptical king fell silent as he watched her; Morgause smiled inwardly, knowing what a compelling sight she made as she dropped the facade of ordinary woman and became the High Priestess that could bring a man to his knees with a single word... in supplication, adoration, helpless lust, or...

_"Angsumnesse!"_

The screams were excruciating, harrowing enough to make a person cringe even from the opposite side of the fortress. Morgause waited patiently as they choked off into silence, smirking at Cenred as she reveled in the stunned expression that was now fixed upon his handsome features.

Heavy footfalls pounded through the corridor, followed by the panicked babbling of a pair of guards as they burst through the doors, hauling the body of their fallen companion.

"Well," Cenred commented dryly, having recovered his wits somewhat. "This seems to be the night for dramatic intrusions."

"I-I'm sorry, sire! But... he just... he was fine, and then he was screaming as if the fires of hell were upon him! There was nothing we could do! He just... it was all over so quickly! Sire, there must be a poisoner in the fortress!"

"I pay you to stand guard, not to waste my time on hysterical speculation. Now remove yourselves from my sight."

"But..."

_"Now."_

"How forceful you are, Cenred," Morgause remarked with only the slightest edge of mockery in her tone. "Remind me not to get on your bad side."

"I suppose I could say the same, my lady."

She laughed merrily, taking a great deal of pleasure in the newfound respect in his eyes. "Was that enough to prove my value as an ally, or do you require additional proof of my powers?"

Cenred raised an eyebrow as his lips twitched with just the slightest hint of a smile. "I think that will do for now. Take a seat, Morgause – may I call you Morgause? Yes? Very well then, let us talk. You've intrigued me, that's for sure, but I fail to understand why you need me if you're capable of... whatever it is you just did."

"It's quite simple, Cenred," she replied sweetly, not bothering to ask permission to use his name in return. "You know as well as I do what will happen if King Uther is murdered..."

"That insipid son of his will take the throne. Yes, I know. I can't say I've ever thought much of the boy, but I find it hard to believe he could grow up to be as much of a bastard as his father is. He doesn't have the balls to be a tyrant, for one thing."

"That's exactly right. From what I know of Arthur, he's... pliable. Easily influenced. That's to our advantage, of course, but Camelot will remain a powerful kingdom with or without Uther calling the shots. Any attempt on the king's life will be met with a great deal of resistance. That is why we must present ourselves as allies, not enemies."

Cenred frowned. "I don't understand."

"Take pains to ensure that we're not implicated in Uther's death. And then when the king falls and all is in chaos, we make sure we're there to offer Arthur our strength. He is young, naive, and will be blinded by grief. We can use that to our advantage, Cenred. If we can find a way to gain his trust, we can mold him into exactly the kind of leader we wish him to be."

"It would certainly be useful to have the new King of Camelot indebted to me, to know my ambitions would be met with no resistance from that direction in the future. But what about you, Morgause? What do you hope to gain from this?"

"King Uther is responsible for the ruthless slaughter of my kind," she responded quietly. "He's the reason people like me are forced to live in secrecy and fear. I want my freedom, Cenred. That's all. But killing Uther won't be enough, not when Arthur will only follow in his father's footsteps."

Cenred studied her face intently. "You have a plan then? Tell me."

Morgause smiled. "I don't have the patience to undo more than twenty years of brainwashing… at least, not gradually. That is why I intend to see that it happens in a single night."

"That's... ambitious of you, my lady. Impossible, perhaps, but ambitious nonetheless."

"For anyone else, yes," Morgause declared with a confident smile. "But not for me. Allow me to explain..."

* * *

"You mean Uther used magic to conceive his son, killing his wife in the process? And _that's_ why..."

"Yes."

Cenred shook his head as he leaned back against his throne. "Hypocrite."

"I'd be inclined to agree with you."

"And Arthur knows nothing of this? You are certain?"

"I'd stake my life on it."

"It's little wonder you feel the way you do," he said thoughtfully, running his fingers through his hair. "So much suffering, and for what? To soothe his guilty conscience? It's no different than it would be to seek vengeance against every blacksmith in existence, simply because you injured yourself on a sword one of them crafted. It's not the tools themselves that are at fault, only the men who misuse them."

Morgause stared at him in surprise. She'd already assumed he'd form an alliance with her – his grudge against the King of Camelot was hardly any secret. But the sympathy in his voice was the last thing she would've expected. Even in areas where magic was still permitted, sorcery was usually met with a great deal of suspicion by those who didn't practice it themselves.

"So you're planning on revealing the truth to Arthur then?" Cenred questioned after a moment, interrupting her thoughts. "Harsh, but necessary. Very well... tell me what I can do to help you."


	2. Challenge

#  **Chapter 2: Challenge**

* * *

"My lady, have you ever considered simply knocking and waiting for a response?"

Morgause didn't spare a glance for the shattered doors. No, she was glaring at Cenred himself, her eyes blazing with undisguised fury as she stalked toward the throne. Beyond anger, however, a wide range of emotions played across her features – confusion, sorrow, disappointment, as well as something else that was harder to define. Whatever it was, it left her seeming more vulnerable than he would've ever expected from someone like her.

"What is it, Morgause?" His lazy smirk faded away, replaced by an expression of genuine concern. "Tell me."

"I – _we_ – have failed."

Cenred leaned back against his throne and sighed. "Most unfortunate. What went wrong?"

"I'm not sure," Morgause admitted reluctantly. "It all went according to plan until the end. After Arthur found out the truth about his mother, he took off for Camelot with murder in his eyes. I honestly thought..."

"You thought he'd kill the old bastard. Well, as much as I hate to say it, this plan was far more suited to the father's temperament than the son's. No doubt Uther would've acted without hesitation if faced with a similar situation. But Arthur's... different. Far too softhearted for that sort of thing."

"Apparently so," Morgause responded irritably.

"Well, no use fretting about it," Cenred said, gesturing to the seat beside him. "There will be other opportunities. May I offer you some wine?"

Morgause grudgingly accepted the proffered goblet, gripping it in a white knuckled hand as she stared off into space. "It would be much easier to remain patient if it weren't for her."

"Who?"

"Morgana."

Cenred frowned. "The Lady Morgana? What does the king's ward have to do with any of this?"

"She's my sister."

"Aha, I see," he said slowly, cocking an eyebrow in her direction. "Well, that explains a lot."

"Oh, don't look at me like that," Morgause snapped, returning his gesture with an obviously well practiced sneer. "She's not the reason... well, not the _only_ reason I wish to destroy that insufferable..."

"Dear lady, spare me your assumptions. Did I infer that I had any objection to your revelation? I might suggest that full disclosure would be more beneficial to us both in the future, simply in the interest of avoiding any misunderstandings, but there's no need to justify your motivations to me. If there's a reason for wanting Uther dead that _isn't_ perfectly valid, I certainly haven't heard of it."

"She has magic."

Unable to help himself, Cenred smiled. "If she's your sister, I'd be surprised if she didn't. After all, you can't go five minutes without inflicting your powers on every person in your immediate vicinity. Only makes sense that the Lady Morgana would share such a talent."

"That's what worries me," Morgause muttered, draining the last of her wine before brooding into her empty goblet.

"Uther doesn't know? What am I saying, of course he doesn't."

"She's never been taught. No education, no proper training. She has power, a great deal of it, but unless she learns to control her gifts, she's in grave danger. I cannot allow..."

"I understand your concern," Cenred replied in a voice that was filled with compassion. But the momentary softness in Morgause's eyes hardened again as he let out a loud chuckle. "King Uther the indestructible, determined to wipe magic from the land. And all the while, right under his nose... don't glare at me, Morgause. Surely you can appreciate the irony in that."

"Yes," she said stiffly. "But as long as my sister remains in immediate peril, you'll have to forgive me if I fail to see anything humorous about the situation."

"Fair enough," he conceded, filling her goblet yet again before topping off his own. "I suppose we'll have to come up with another strategy to rescue your beloved sister then. You know, Morgause, it could be beneficial to have someone right there in the palace to further our cause. Why not just give her a vial of poison and let her finish him the easy way? If you want him dead..."

Morgause shook her head vehemently. "No. I will not run the risk of Morgana being implicated. Besides, she's lived among these people since she was a child, and I've only met her once. I must speak with her again to get a better idea of where she stands... not that I fear she'd betray us, of course, but whatever affection she feels for Uther or his son could prove problematic if we act too rashly. I have to earn her trust, command her loyalty above all others. It would be foolish to make demands of her before that is accomplished."

"I suppose that makes sense."

"I don't have another plan yet, of course. I didn't assume I'd need one. But I have a few ideas that certainly merit further consideration in the near future."

"Glad to hear it," Cenred replied, not quite managing to stifle a yawn. "Meanwhile, it's getting late... and I don't know about you, but I've had a little too much wine. Shall we continue this discussion in the morning?"

"You expect me to return so soon? Why, Cenred, you must believe I have nothing better to do than come and go at your beck and call. As powerful as I am, the transportation spell is quite draining. I prefer a few days to rest between visits."

"Might I offer you a chamber for the night then? Surely there's no urgent business preventing you from enjoying my hospitality for just a little longer." As if to emphasize his point, he reached over to offer her another refill, leaning a bit closer to inhale her enticing scent.

Morgause snorted. "Only to have you sneak into my bed in the middle of the night? I think I'll pass."

"My dear lady, I'm appalled that you'd believe me to be capable of such a thing." Cenred's face remained fixed in an expression of injured pride, even as his eyes drifted lazily down her body. "I assure you, your virtue is entirely safe with me."

"Indeed? I'm tempted to call your bluff."

"Then accept my offer, and I shall prove myself to you."

Morgause hesitated, scrutinizing him closely as his eyes finally lifted to meet hers. "Very well."

* * *

Cenred devoured the sight of Morgause's swaying hips as a maidservant escorted her from the hall. The motion was subtle, virtually undetectable to anyone who wasn't paying close attention, but it was enough to cause his cock to strain against the confines of his leather breeches... as if he were some unseasoned youth, not a full-grown man with a wealth of experience under his belt.

Indeed, he found it difficult to remember the last time his body had reacted so strongly to a woman's presence. He nearly always needed overt stimulation to aid his arousal, such as a pretty whore stripped bare for his pleasure, or a soft, feminine hand wrapping around his length and coaxing him to hardness. It wasn't that he had the least bit of trouble performing once he was aroused, of course, but getting to that point usually required much more than a subtle tease.

That rule obviously didn't apply to Morgause. She only had to glance in his direction to have him aching for her with an intensity that made it difficult to carry on a normal conversation. It would be downright embarrassing if it weren't such an unaccustomed thrill to his senses... the soft, husky tones of her voice, the intoxicating fragrance of some flower he couldn't put a name to, heady and mysterious, quite unlike anything he'd ever smelled before.

Yes, everything about her begged to be ravished, from the top of her lovely golden head, to what would almost certainly be the most delectable little toes.

If she'd been anyone else, he'd already be on his way to the guest chambers, eager to perform a seduction she'd find impossible to resist. But instead, he headed in the opposite direction, up to his own quarters where he peeled away the uncomfortable layers of leather, then fell on his bed with a sigh of frustration.

"Sire?"

Lifting his head, Cenred glanced over at the pretty brunette who was silhouetted in the archway between his bedchamber and the sitting room. Her eyes touched briefly on his face before blazing a trail down the length of his body, lips curving into a smile as they fell upon the heavy erection resting against the flat planes of his lower abdomen.

"May I be of assistance?"

"Not tonight," Cenred surprised himself by saying. 

He clearly wasn't the only one who hadn't been expecting the refusal – her lips parted in a delicate little "o" as she searched his features, probably trying to figure out whether or not she'd misunderstood.

It took him a minute to figure out why he'd turned her down, particularly when she didn't seem to be in any hurry to close her mouth. How simple it would be to summon her to his bed, then let her suck him until he spilled himself down her throat in waves of blessed relief.

So easy, just the way it had been a hundred times before when his favorite little maidservant had appeared in his bedchamber to fulfill her final duty of the day. She performed the task well, her natural eagerness and considerable skill never failing to send him off to sleep with a lazy, satisfied smile on his lips.

"Not tonight," he repeated a little more firmly.

It was to her credit that the expression on her face was one of genuine disappointment. "Have I done something to displease you, sire?"

"Not at all. I just..." He reached out to pull the covers over his hips, as if hiding the evidence would be enough to convince her that he simply wasn't in the mood. "I'm just tired. I wish to be alone."

"I… of course. Sleep well, sire."

He breathed a sigh of relief as she departed, his thoughts immediately returning to the woman who was comfortably installed in his most sumptuous guest chamber. No doubt the servants would've provided her with proper nightclothes... would she put them on? Or did she sleep as he preferred, her naked body covered by nothing more than a thin sheet?

Closing his eyes in a futile attempt to fall asleep, he explored every moment of his time with Morgause, desperate to find any evidence that she wanted him even half as much as he hungered for her.

There were no obvious signs – Morgause wasn't one for self-conscious blushes or nervously nibbled lower lips. She didn't giggle or play with her hair, nor did she touch herself in strategic places in an effort to draw his attention to that area. No, none of what seemed to be the typical signs of feminine attraction were present when Cenred found himself in her company.

And yet, he sensed it somehow. It was a fleeting gleam in her dark eyes, the wickedness in the ghost of a smile, gone as quickly as it had appeared. Most of all, it was in her voice; no matter what topic she was speaking on, she'd look at him and then her tone would become softer, more lilting, falling upon his ears like a caress that promised all manners of delights she never put a name to.

Cenred knew her restraint had nothing to do with shyness, as she was the last woman anyone would accuse of having a timid nature. No, she had to be quite used to being pursued, knowing all too well that it wasn't necessary to throw herself at a man's mercy in order to gain his attentions.

But he was positive she wanted him, whether she admitted it or not. Being as perceptive as she was, she must also realize that he was no ordinary man either, certainly not the type who was obligated to beg a woman for her favors. Due to his power, position, and considerable wealth, not to mention quite a bit of charisma and physical appeal, there were no shortage of women who were all too willing to warm his bed at any given moment.

Morgause had to know that... surely she didn't expect him to follow at her heels like a lovesick puppy. What was she waiting for?

And then a hiss of pure pleasure escaped from between his teeth as he realized what she must _really_ be up to with her careful nonchalance. The devious little witch must be testing his own restraint, confident in the belief that he'd break long before she would.

Yes, a battle of wills was obviously what she had in mind... a battle that Cenred didn't have the slightest intention of losing.

So while he could've easily succumbed to the allure of a beautiful woman who was every bit as cunning as himself, he resisted the urge. Ignoring the robe hanging on his bedpost, the heady temptation of a guest chamber that was no more than a few dozen paces away, he reached for his cock instead.

Considering how worked up he was at that moment, it didn't take long. He stroked himself fast and hard, arching his back with a guttural cry as he found his release just a few minutes later.

Perhaps solitary relief wasn't playing fair in terms of their unspoken arrangement, but he wouldn't hesitate to use any advantage at his disposal to conquer his lovely opponent. He suspected the same was true for her, overcome by a rush of heady anticipation as he imagined the various strategies she might be planning in an attempt to thwart his newfound determination.

 _My poor Morgause,_ he thought drowsily as his eyes drifted closed. _You have no idea who you're dealing with._


	3. Stalemate

#  **Chapter 3: Stalemate**

* * *

Morgause had expected a visit from Cenred as soon as she'd been installed in the sparse, yet comfortable guest chamber. When an hour or two passed with nothing to disturb the silence, however, she could only come to the conclusion that the handsome young king simply didn't want to appear too eager.

A wasted effort, in her opinion. She knew he lusted after her, having noticed that familiar gleam in his eyes as they'd lingered on the soft swell of her breasts, her slender waist, the gentle curve of her hips. Indeed, her figure alone was enough to drive men mad with desire... and that was without taking the beauty of her face or her instinctively seductive mannerisms into account.

Most men put up no resistance, hurling themselves at even the slightest hint that their advances would be welcomed. That was just as well; playing hard to get was a woman's game, after all. Men generally lacked the finely honed instincts that would lead them to realize that even the most casual rut involved so much more than physical pleasure.

More than anything, sex was about power. Morgause had learned that truth not long after she'd had her first courses, and it had served her well ever since. Let a man believe he was in control, that he had the advantage, then turn the tables on him when he least expected it.

Shedding her tight velvet gown, she stretched out on the rich furs that covered the large bed, clad in nothing but wispy undergarments. Her golden curls cascaded across the pillow as she turned onto her side, imagining the pleasing curve of her silhouette as seen through Cenred's eyes when he finally got around to sneaking into her chamber. She smirked to herself, deciding he probably wouldn't be able to stammer out even the most flimsy excuse before he made his way over to the bed and ravished her. Her fingers crept lower as she pictured the delicious scene, but then she changed her mind, withdrawing them after the first faint pulses of pleasure. 

No, better to make Cenred do all the work.

Where was he? Surely it had been long enough to satisfy his inane need to seem unaffected by her presence; she wished he'd just get on with it so she might enjoy at least a couple hours of sleep before morning.

Sighing heavily, her eyes drifted closed. Yes, even better... let him rouse her from her false slumber when he finally arrived. It wouldn't do to give him the impression she'd been waiting up for him.

When her eyes opened again, however, bright morning sunlight was spilling through the heavy brocade drapes that covered the lone window. She frowned in consternation as she wrapped the covers around herself, even as a soft knock echoed through the chamber.

"Enter," she commanded, still sleepy, yet imperious all the same.

"My lady," the young serving boy said timidly, averting his eyes at a flash of bare leg. "King Cenred wishes you to join him for breakfast in his chambers. I've been sent to escort you, after... after you've had a chance to dress, of course."

"Indeed?" she responded, arching one delicate eyebrow. "Very well then. Please wait outside; I won't be long."

After the door clicked shut, she rose and made her way over to the pile of clothing that had been left behind by the maidservant the night before. Most of the dresses were discarded instantly – too plain, too dowdy, or simply ill-suited to a figure like hers. She finally settled on a deep blue confection crafted of the finest silk, smiling in satisfaction at the way the flimsy fabric clung to her curves. Yes, very nice.

It was only a short walk to the double doors where her escort came to a stop, ushering her inside with a meek announcement of, "The Lady Morgause, sire."

"Thank you, boy. You may leave us."

It was all Morgause could do to disguise her reaction as her eyes fell upon Cenred, reclining comfortably in an oversized chair beside the table. He was bare chested, his body lean and muscular, a faint dusting of hair narrowing across the flat planes of his stomach, then disappearing into his tight leather breeches. His dark hair was tousled, brushing his broad shoulders as he turned his head to treat her to a lazy smirk.

"My apologies," he murmured, his voice still husky from sleep. "I prefer a less... formal routine in the mornings. I trust you are not offended by my lack of attire?"

Morgause sniffed as she settled herself at the table, focusing her gaze on a platter of sausages as she avoided his eyes. "Not at all. I have much more important things on my mind than what you choose to wear to breakfast, Cenred."

In truth, she couldn't think of anything other than the irresistible urge to settle herself on his lap and press her lips against a mouth that really shouldn't be so lush and tempting. She wanted to run her hands all over that wide expanse of golden skin, to find out for herself if it was really as warm and inviting as it appeared. It had been a long time since she'd been aroused by the mere sight of a man, but Cenred... truly, he had no business being even half as enticing as he was.

Worse than that, he was well aware of his own appeal. She'd caught it in his eyes, a quiet self-assurance that expected a favorable reaction to the body he'd put so conspicuously on display. It was easy enough to recognize, having worn that expression countless times herself.

Well... now she knew _exactly_ what game Cenred was playing, the misguided fool. And she'd be damned if she'd be the first to surrender, no matter how much she wanted to drop the act and beg him to take her right there on the table.

"Will you pass the bread?" she said instead, flashing him a nonchalant smile.

* * *

Cenred watched in fascinated amusement as Morgause lifted a sausage to her lips, a tempting flicker of soft pink tongue laving just the tip before she closed her mouth around it with a throaty moan.

"Why, Cenred," she practically cooed at him. "If I'd known you served such delicious... meals, I would've dined with you much sooner."

He made a show of being unaffected when she leaned over and lingered there, breasts straining against the thin fabric of her gown as she reached for a slice of bread.

"I'm glad the food pleases you, dear lady. Try the butter – blended with the finest honey my kingdom has to offer."

No more than a few minutes later, he was ready to scream in frustration. Had it really been necessary to wear the tightest breeches he owned? His cock was straining against the unforgiving leather, a situation that became even more urgent as Morgause managed to spill an entire goblet of water down the front of her gown. Damn the witch, that had been anything but an accident.

"Oh, how _clumsy_ of me!"

Dear gods, she wasn't wearing any undergarments. The nearly transparent blue fabric clung to her body like a second skin, accentuating the dusky outline of her nipples, her navel, and lower, sticking to her slender thighs in wet patches. Oh bloody hell, he couldn't...

"We'd better get you out of those clothes," he said, relieved when his voice came out somewhat steady. "You can wrap yourself in one of my robes while I send a servant to acquire another dress for you."

"That's kind of you, Cenred, but I'm afraid I can't disrobe by myself. The ties are all at the back, you see. Shall we summon someone to assist me?"

He cleared his throat, swallowing hard before responding. "Morgause, I am perfectly capable of unfastening... here..."

Everything was a bit hazy after that. One minute, he was untying the ribbon at the nape of her neck, and the next, she was in his arms, bare breasts pressed flush against his naked skin. And then he was kissing – no, _devouring_ – her lips, sweetened by the lingering taste of honey as he guided her backward to fall upon the bed.

Cenred was a man who preferred to take his time, lavishing every inch of a woman's body with hands, tongue, and teeth before bringing the act to its inevitable conclusion. Indeed, failing to give at least two, preferably three climaxes before his own desire came into the equation would've been what he'd consider to be a shameful performance.

But there was no room for conscious thought when she sprawled across the bed and immediately opened her thighs for him. He fell upon her like an unseasoned youth, soon forgetting anything aside from the intense, almost frightening need to drive himself deeper, faster, harder...

It could have been minutes or hours – time ceased to exist from the moment he buried himself in her slick, wet heat, until he released a helpless groan, spilling himself in blinding waves of pure bliss. Gods, he hadn't come like that since... **ever**.

It was only when he drifted back to something that vaguely resembled reality, sweat drenched and panting with his head nestled between Morgause's breasts, that the shame began to sink in. What in bloody hell... he didn't even know if she'd enjoyed herself; there were faint recollections of soft cries and encouraging moans. Beyond that, nothing.

"I..." he started, searching for an apology that wouldn't add to his humiliation.

But when he lifted his head to look down at her, her expression was completely satisfied... no, _smug_ was a better word for it.

"I win," she said sweetly.

He frowned as he shifted to one side. "What?"

"I knew you'd give in first."

"I did no such thing," he protested. "You were the one who was all too willing for me to take your clothes off."

Undaunted, she smirked up at him. "Perhaps, but I don't recall being the one who started nibbling the nape of _your_ neck."

"A friendly gesture. Nothing more. Can you say the same about rubbing yourself against my cock?"

"Was that before or after you started pawing at my breasts?"

He snorted. "Believe what you will. I know the truth."

"And I win again. Tell me, Cenred... do you always give in so easily? I'm not sure that's the most desirable quality to be found in a king. A proper ruler is supposed to be rigid, firm, unyielding..."

Infuriating woman. He should order her out of his bed right then and there, conjure up some excuse about official business and send her on her way. Instead, he found himself playing along with her little game, settling himself beside her and reaching out to trace lazy circles on her stomach. "I think I was plenty rigid just a little while ago."

The corners of Morgause's lips twitched. "So you were."

"Did I... did you...?"

"My, Cenred, I would've never pegged you for the shy type. Are you trying to ask if I enjoyed myself?"

He let out a sigh of relief. "Yes."

"It was... adequate."

" _Adequate?_ "

"Well, it's always a compliment to find a man so... eager. But I'm afraid I wasn't given enough time to properly assess your skills."

Part of him wanted to slink away in humiliation at the slight to his pride. And yet another part, one that was still spent but would undoubtably rise to the occasion again in response to this maddening woman lying naked on his furs, demanded to be avenged. Adequate indeed... well, he'd damn sure show her how wrong she was to attribute such a lackluster description to his lovemaking skills.

And so he started slowly this time, treating Morgause to a succession of deep, searching kisses as his hands caressed the lush contours of her body. Never quite making contact with her most sensitive areas, he circled her breasts with the tips of his fingers, trailing them down over her hips to reach her thighs. A ghost of a touch, just a whisper floating across that fine thatch of hair before he brought his hand back up again, trying not to smile in response to the petulant whimper that escaped her lips.

More kisses, slow yet hungry, tongue delving just a little more deeply each time, mimicking another act she was swiftly beginning to crave if her flushed skin and heavy lidded eyes were any indication. And then he withdrew his mouth from hers, pressing it against the soft column of her throat, then further up to trace the delicate shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue.

"Is this... adequate?" he breathed, his voice soft and husky as she gave a noticeable shudder.

"I suppose it will do," she replied, though her attempted nonchalance was betrayed by the catch in her voice as he caught her lobe between his teeth.

"Good," he practically purred, dipping his head to her collarbone. His hand roamed lower once more, fingers trailing restlessly up and down her thighs, but never making contact... he wouldn't touch her there, not until she asked for it.

"Just say the word, Morgause," he murmured, moving down to press gentle kisses along the valley between her breasts. "Tell me what you want, and you shall have it."

She let out a haughty sniff, though her voice was unsteady as she spoke. "It makes no difference to me."

Stubborn to a fault. Well, that was to be expected. Cenred was hard again now, his heavy length caught in the friction between his body and hers as he shifted to pull her closer, rubbing his rough morning stubble against a sensitive nipple. She gasped.

"You like that... let's see about this then, shall we?"

Hot and hungry, his lips closed around the stiff little nub, laving it with the flat of his tongue before drawing it more fully into his mouth. Morgause was beyond any show of being unaffected now; she arched against him and moaned as he pulled back and breathed a light gust of air across the sensitive flesh.

"Cenred, please," she burst out, head thrown back, eyes closed, panting heavily as she tilted her hips up in encouragement. "Just..."

Good enough. Fixing his mouth on her other breast, he buried his hand between her legs; she whimpered loudly as he plunged his fingers inside her. It was a rhythm he'd perfected – a tantalizingly slow penetration and withdrawal, combined with a perfectly positioned thumb, the callused pad rubbing back and forth across that tiny bundle of nerves that never failed to make a woman...

Morgause let loose what could only be described as a howl, digging her fingernails into his shoulders with an exquisite bite of pain as her entire body trembled beneath the force of her release. Once, perhaps that was enough... his cock certainly thought so, throbbing insistently with a need that was becoming difficult to ignore.

But he resisted the tempation, determined that this time, there would be no question as to who the winner was. A succession of almost brutal kisses across her stomach, her hips, along the contours of her thighs and then he was there, tongue darting out to taste her sweetness as she buried her hands in his hair and urged him on with a throaty moan.

"Yesss..." she hissed, raising her hips to press herself more firmly against his mouth. "Yes, Cenred..."

He slid his hands beneath her, cupping her backside and holding her firmly in place as she bucked and writhed beneath his assault. The second climax came upon her almost instantly, but beyond that, it was impossible to tell where her pleasure waxed and waned amidst the constant succession of ragged whimpers and breathless moans. To say Cenred was pleased by her reaction was an understatement – he'd assumed Morgause would be a passionate lover, but _this_... he'd never known a woman to respond so beautifully, so eagerly, so... _vocally_ , to his attentions.

It was only when her body went limp, eyes tightly closed as she collapsed against the pillows and struggled to catch her breath that Cenred finally pulled away, considering it a job well done.

He rose above her then, reaching down to wrap a hand around himself. Bloody hell, she was so irresistible just lying there, licking her lips and watching him with that unfocused stare that could only be attributed to a woman who had been thoroughly pleasured from head to heel. Gods, he was so hard, and despite the fact that he'd already come once that morning, it felt as if he hadn't done so in years. He had to be inside her _now_.

But a perverse thought occurred to him before he could act upon his desire. His lips curved into a devious smirk, relishing the thought of her reaction as he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"I win."

It was a drastic mistake. She let out a derisive snort, twisting her body out of reach in a swift, graceful movement. By the time he realized what was happening, she'd already reached the door, glancing back over one shoulder with a downright calculating expression of her own.

"No," she said softly. "I do."


	4. Capitulate

#  **Chapter 4: Capitulate**

* * *

Three weeks. Three of the longest, most interminable weeks Cenred had ever known.

By the time he'd struggled into his breeches, not an easy feat thanks to his raging erection, the corridor outside his chambers had been empty. He'd stalked through the fortress, searching the guest quarters, the main hall, anywhere the damnable witch might have chosen to conceal herself.

She'd been nowhere to be found.

None of the servants had seen her either, which had struck Cenred as peculiar since she'd been stark naked when she'd left him. Eventually, he'd been forced to admit defeat, spending the rest of his day in foul spirits as he'd dealt with all the mundane business that came along with ruling a kingdom. Tedious... like he'd given a damn whether the taxes on wool should be raised, or if it might be time to bring in new recruits for the army. 

All he cared about, all he wanted was… something he couldn't have, apparently.

It was a strange feeling for a king who'd been born to excess and privilege; indeed, he couldn't recall a single instance where a woman had refused him.

If he had any wits about him, he'd write Morgause off as a lost cause, then repeatedly avail himself of the numerous serving wenches, maidservants, and guards' wives within the fortress who'd given him pleasure countless times in the past... no teasing, no games, and no resistance.

But he didn't want anyone else. His pride refused to let him surrender so easily, to leave _any_ woman believing she held such power over him. Morgause would be back with another one of her schemes sooner or later, he was sure of it. And when that happened, she'd find that his assistance wouldn't be so readily given this time. No, not unless she made amends for leaving him alone with the worst case of sexual frustration he'd ever known.

But when she appeared again, predictably dramatic as she came crashing into his main hall without warning, Cenred forgot all about any plans to take control. Her hair was wild, wind tossed, floating around her bare shoulders as she stared at him with her dark eyes wide with excitement.

The dress she was wearing could hardly be called a dress at all; it was crafted from some wispy silver fabric that fastened at the back of her neck, leaving her arms bare as it clung to the rest of her form like a sheath of liquid metal. Gods, but she was a beauty... so damn appealing he could almost forgive her for leaving him high and dry.

Almost.

It wouldn't do to allow her to see how affected he was by her presence, however, so he pasted on the most casual expression he could manage as he arched a mildly curious eyebrow in her direction.

"May I help you?"

Whatever plot was brewing in that devious mind of hers, it left no room for pleasantries. She hurried forward and clasped his hand between her own as her mouth opened and closed several times, obviously struggling to find the words to explain whatever it was she'd come there to say.

Well, Cenred had a few ideas as to what she could do with that mouth. Just watching her worry her lower lip with her teeth obligated him to shift on his throne in an attempt to relieve the uncomfortable pressure between his thighs. Really, would it be such a bad idea to command his tailors to make him at least a couple pairs of breeches that were crafted from some material other than unyielding leather?

He would have to see about that later.

"I've got it!" Morgause gasped out just then. "I know how to destroy him!"

"Who?" Cenred responded, just to be contrary.

"Uther, you fool! Uther!"

He smirked at her. "Indeed?"

"Yes, it's perfect! There's no way it can fail!"

"That's precisely what you seemed to believe last time, and you know..."

Morgause rolled her eyes at him. "Last time, our success depended upon the conscience of one who clearly wasn't strong enough to do what should have been done. This time, it does not."

Unable to help himself, Cenred leaned forward, his eyes alighting with interest. "Explain."

"Have you ever heard of the Knights of Medhir?"

He scoffed. "A fairytale. Nothing more."

"That's where you're wrong," she said softly. "They are as real as you or me... and I have the power to raise them."

"Even if the legends are true, the Fires of Idirsholas haven't burned for hundreds of years. Nothing less than the most powerful magic could possibly..."

"You doubt me?" her voice was sharp as her eyes challenged him. Cenred didn't look away, though he conceded the point.

"Magic in all its intricacies is rather beyond me, I fear. Very well, let's assume you're right. What exactly do you plan to do with your little band of resurrected knights? From what I understand, there can't be more than a dozen. Far more dangerous than mortal soldiers, to be sure, but to break through the mighty defenses of Camelot? It might not be as easy as you think."

Morgause smiled, obviously pleased that he'd at least partially surrendered. "I know a spell that with a living host, has the power to render hundreds, perhaps thousands, completely defenseless. I can enlist Morgana's aid to..."

"Defenseless? How do you mean?"

"The simplest explanation is that it'll put everyone in the city into a deep sleep… one that cannot be broken until the spell is lifted."

Cenred frowned. "If you have the power to do that, then why bother with the knights at all? Just put everyone to sleep, walk in and kill Uther and be done with it."

"I cannot risk being seen. You must remember – I intend to play a large role in Camelot's return to the Old Ways. It wouldn't do to be known as a murderer at all, but regicide? Quite ill advised, I'd imagine."

"But if they're all asleep, how would they know?"

"Cenred, are you trying to spoil my good mood?"

"Not at all," he said smoothly. "It just seems that you make these things far more complicated than they need to be. But if that's the way you want it, fair enough. What about Morgana? Will she agree to this? If you intend to involve the Knights of Medhir, you'll be putting everyone she knows at risk, not just the king."

For the first time in his presence, Morgause looked distinctly uncomfortable. "She wants the king dead. How could she not?"

"You might be surprised. Uther is also the man who has cared for her since she was a child. It's hard to believe his actions wouldn't have inspired at least some sort of loyalty over the years."

"Misplaced, if it exists at all!" she snapped back at him.

"The question isn't whether it's right or wrong. Only that it exists. If it does, if she's reluctant to play a part in this, what do you plan to do?"

"What I must."

"Ah, take the choice out of her hands," Cenred said thoughtfully. "Are you prepared...?"

"It's for her own good!"

"Are you prepared to deal with the consequences?"

Morgause frowned. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is, if you force Morgana's hand in this and she discovers what you've done, it will be a terrible breach of trust. Surely you must see that."

"Cenred, if you mean to tell her..."

He laughed uproariously. "Here I am, trying to make sure you've thought this through, and you jump to the most illogical conclusion imaginable. Why would I even want to... nevermind. Proceed."

"Whatever happens, I'll deal with it as it comes."

"A sound strategy," he observed wryly. "Meticulously plotted, almost failproof. Just sort it out later, and all will be well. Infallible logic, my dear lady."

"Cenred?"

"Yes, Morgause?"

"Be silent."

He smirked at her. "Make me."

* * *

Of all the infuriating... Morgause had expected him to be humbled after their last meeting, imagining a far more subdued Cenred who would still be smarting from the humiliation of being left completely unsatisfied. It had been a stroke of genius at the time – granted, it hadn't been easy to get up and walk away from what had promised to be a very satisfying rut, but in exchange for showing him once and for all who was truly in control? Definitely worth the denial of her own pleasure.

Instead of being submissive, however, he was even more cocky this time around, not flinching from her angry and slightly bewildered glare as he awaited her next move. Oh, it made her furious... furious, and incredibly aroused.

To hell with it. She didn't have time for games, not when she had every intention of putting the first step of her plan into action on the morrow. Let Cenred think what he liked – he was there to be used at her discretion, and she fully intended to take advantage of the situation whenever and however she liked.

"Send your guards away," she said softly.

Cenred raised one eyebrow. "Craving a bit of privacy while you throttle me, dear lady?"

"Perhaps later. For now, I have something else in mind."

"And what's that?"

"It involves you bending me over that elegant throne of yours and doing whatever you like with me."

He didn't quite manage to hide his quick intake of breath, nor the sudden flare in his eyes in response to her words. Nonetheless, his face remained impassive as he shook his head. "And have you pull another one of your tricks on me? No, thank you… I am not so desperate that I'm willing to accept whatever scraps you throw at me like some half starved dog."

Morgause shrugged and turned away. 

"Wait."

* * *

As if worried she might put a stop to it at any moment, Cenred was quick to get Morgause exactly where he wanted her. There was no time for the leisurely play he'd treated her to during their previous tryst, only the brutal onslaught of his mouth against hers, followed by the loud ripping of fabric and a series of muttered curses as he struggled out of his leather vestments.

He spun her around, pushing her hair aside and sinking his teeth into her neck as his hands slid down her naked body, pausing to squeeze her breasts before skimming over her stomach and thighs, making her gasp as he plunged his fingers inside her without warning.

He chuckled in her ear, a dark, seductive sound, as he brought his hand back up to hold the evidence of her arousal before her eyes. And then she didn't care... didn't give a damn how obvious it was that she wanted him as he grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her down over the throne. Already panting in anticipation of what was to come, Morgause braced herself, hands gripping the armrests so hard her knuckles turned white as he pressed himself against her from behind.

"Now!" she hissed from between clenched teeth.

She could feel his hesitation, knowing there was a part of him that wanted to refuse in light of what she'd done to him before. It was a futile effort; she smiled to herself as she spread her legs a little further apart, rubbing against him in a slow, sensuous rhythm.

Cenred growled almost menacingly, slamming into her with a force that had her scrabbling for purchase as he gripped her by the hips, withdrawing only to thrust even harder the second time around. He set a swift, punishing rhythm, fingers biting into her skin so roughly she'd have bruises for days to come. She loved every minute of it, pushing back to meet his thrusts, crying out her encouragement again and again as he drove into her like some primal force of nature.

Morgause had been with more than a few men in her time, but never like this... so hard, so deep, bringing on a complete loss of control she would've never thought herself capable of. She climaxed for the first time, whimpering his name as she shuddered from head to toe, and then her legs gave out; she would've collapsed to the floor if it hadn't been for his powerful grip, holding her firmly in place as he strained above her with a series of ragged grunts and the occasional muttered curse.

She closed her eyes, utterly spent and yet somehow eager for more as he pounded into her, seeming to fill her more completely with each thrust. The second release came as a surprise; one moment she was languid, intoxicated by nothing more than the bliss of having him inside her, and the next, she was crying her passion to the rafters above as her body tightened around him, her pulsing almost keeping time with his own as he came with a guttural shout.

He slumped over her then, bracing his hands on the throne to keep himself from crushing her as he panted in her ear. It took some maneuvering, but a moment later, he was seated and she was in his lap, her face buried against his neck as he rubbed her back in lazy circles.

"That was..."

"Indeed. I'm almost sorry..."

But even now, surprisingly vulnerable and sated beyond all imagining, she couldn't quite bring herself to finish the statement... that she regretted denying them both this pleasure for far longer than was necessary. If Cenred guessed at her meaning, however, he had the courtesy not to acknowledge it.

Somehow, that earned her trust in a way that none of his previous actions on her behalf had done.

That was the moment she surrendered, relinquishing something she'd only ever used for pleasure and power in favor of becoming a lover. There'd be other struggles in their future, numerous arguments and battles of will to contend with. But in this one thing, at least, she was willing to forgo her constant need for dominance, giving herself over to something that suddenly seemed infinitely more appealing.

Cenred might never have her heart – Morgause wasn't sure she'd be capable of such a thing even if she'd wanted it. But her body was now his for the taking, just as his now lay firmly in her possession.


	5. Inevitable

#  **Chapter 5: Inevitable**

* * *

When Morgause departed to put her harebrained scheme of raising the Knights of Medhir into action, Cenred was left with an unexpected feeling of loss in her absence. Plagued by restlessness and no small measure of self-doubt, he frequently paced the corridors late into the night, struggling in vain to think of anything other than her.

Night after night, his prettiest serving girl was sent away with a distracted wave, despite the fact that she'd never gone more than a day or two without receiving an invitation to his bed in the past. Like it or not, he couldn't bring himself to seek solace in the closest warm body he happened to find appealing anymore. If the only woman he truly wanted was beyond his reach, he'd just as soon take care of his frustrations on his own as he awaited her return.

Cenred refused to admit to himself that a simple case of lust had given way to something more tender, both strange and frightening to a man who'd always taken a great deal of pride in avoiding such entanglements. It was unnerving; he'd be lost in a vision of her spread out beneath him, naked and panting and begging for his touch, only to recall how fragile she'd looked when she'd fallen asleep in his bed in the aftermath of their passion. But the overpowering urge to protect her that came over him in those moments didn't mean anything, did it? And if it felt wrong to wake in the morning without her lying beside him, well it was obvious that he'd just gotten used to having her around. What else could it be?

But the battle was lost as soon as she returned, surrender coming upon him much like the relief of an exhaled breath one has been holding for just a little too long. Morgause collapsed to her knees right there in the throne room, cradling her dying sister in her arms as she looked up at him with anguished, tear filled eyes that obliterated the last of his defenses. And as she rasped out a list of the herbs she needed from the healer, Cenred could no longer deny the truth.

He was desperately in love with her.

When Morgana was stabilized and tucked safely into bed, he remained by Morgause's side as she held her silent vigil, willing and indeed _hoping_ to obey her every command. It should've frightened him to realize she held his heart in her brutal little hands, easily capable of crushing it at any moment. But that didn't seem to matter so much when she didn't trouble to hide her love and grief and fury from his gaze. He wasn't in this alone – after all, what had she done when faced with what was probably the biggest crisis of her life? She'd come straight to him.

As if somehow sensing his thoughts, Morgause abruptly spoke aloud. "I wish I could've taken her to the Isle. If things were the way they used to be, she would've never been forced to suffer such crude treatment, or what is sure to be a lengthy recovery. The combined power of the priestesses..."

"You've treated her quite well from what I can see."

She snorted. "I wouldn't expect you to know the difference."

"Between what?"

"Exactly."

Cenred sighed. Whatever he felt in his heart didn't change the fact that Morgause would always be difficult to handle. Strange – all the qualities which had led to him falling in love with her in the first place also made him want to throttle her at times. Was that how it was supposed to work?

But in the end, it was easy enough to forget any lingering reservations when she more or less moved into the castle after that first night, claiming a place in his bed as if hers by divine right and doing the same in his council meetings. The latter was a bit presumptuous on her part, perhaps, but how could he bring himself to complain when she rarely left his side other than to care for her sister, seeming as hungry for his company as he was for hers?

It was a blissful time, so deeply satisfying that for once in his life, Cenred couldn't bring himself to want anything more than what he already had – Morgause's laughter echoing in the halls, her sly smiles and the biting remarks that were delivered with such subtlety and grace that he rarely realized she'd been insulting him until much later. 

Morgause – beautiful, confident, and utterly shameless… the only woman he'd ever known who had an appetite for pleasure that rivaled his own. 

She never raised a single objection when he acted upon his desire for her, whether he chose to make love to her in the privacy of his bedchamber, or shoved her up against the nearest wall and tore away her skirts like some mindless barbarian. Better than that even, there seemed to be no end to her sense of adventure – she was often the one who suggested any number of things that would've made most women slap a man in outrage.

Yes, there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to be with her, which was fine by him as long as he was able to convince himself that she felt the same way. It was easy to believe she did whenever he was inside her, hearing her crying out his name and begging for more as he gave it to her faster, harder, deeper… whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, he lived and breathed to make sure she had it. The more she demanded of him, the more he gave of himself, always choosing to ignore the distance in her eyes when it was all over.

Unfortunately, it wasn't long before his fragile contentment was shattered, stomped to bits by a woman who'd never be truly at ease until she'd exacted her revenge and laid claim to Camelot. And when her sister had fully recovered and she started all over again with her plotting and scheming, he had the unpleasant feeling that if she failed this time around, he'd be the one who would take the blame.

Cenred didn't give a damn about Camelot anymore. Oh, he hated Uther as much as he ever had, of course, but was he prepared to devote his resources and maybe even his _life_ to the effort to supplant him? That seemed a ridiculously heavy price to pay, which was why he'd never attempted an assault on the other man's kingdom in the past. He'd never even given much thought to the matter until Morgause had come along and sucked him into her unnecessarily complex little schemes, clearly believing that he was as hellbent on Uther's destruction as she was herself.

If anyone had bothered to ask _him_ what he wanted, his answer would've been simple. He wanted _her_  in his fortress and in his bed, wanted her to be fulfilled by his attentions, along with the realization that he had enough wealth and power to keep her satisfied for as long as it suited them both. It could be so perfect… why couldn't she just forget about Camelot and make her home here with him? He could give her so many of the things she seemed to crave, and would do so gladly just to keep her close at hand.

Alas, his own desires were irrelevant next to the obsessive need to take possession of the most powerful kingdom in living memory, and any objections he might have raised would have been jeered at or ignored. It was a fool's errand… unfortunately, it was a fool's errand he couldn't refuse to take part in if he wished to retain Morgause's affections.

How much would she demand of him in the effort to achieve her dream? What sacrifices would be required before it was all over? And was it a price he'd be willing to pay… even for her?

* * *

Morgause sighed in satisfaction as Cenred spilled himself inside her, groaning something that might have been her name as he buried his face against her neck. What followed was what had been happening more and more frequently since she'd returned with Morgana. He rolled over onto his side and pulled her into his arms, holding her close against his body as he stroked her hair with surprisingly gentle fingers. It didn't occur to her to mind; while it might not have been something she _needed_ , she was too relaxed to do anything other than accept his affections. It felt nice, really – warm, comfortable, and oddly… safe.

She was on her guard tonight, however; based on past observation, she had about five minutes before he would drift off to sleep. And she didn't have the patience to put this conversation off for another day.

"Cenred?"

"Mmph?"

"I have a plan."

* * *

Cenred could only recall bits and pieces of Morgause's scheme when he awoke the following day to find her gone. Something about tears and enchanted plants, driving King Uther insane, was it? And then marching an army – _his_ army – upon the kingdom… was that what she'd had the audacity to suggest? It was madness, and still he'd readily agreed, too content to even consider refusing the glorious golden haired woman who'd been responsible for his drowsy state of bliss.

That was the first time he ever became truly angry with Morgause, the moment he realized that she'd taken advantage of him at such a vulnerable time… not helped by the fact that she'd disappeared again without any indication of when she might return.

And so for two months, he waited, helpless to do anything but long for her desperately even as he cursed her name and swore to himself he'd be far better off if he never saw her again. It was torture, and the worst part was that he'd known all along that this was the inevitable outcome. He'd _known_ it, and yet he'd allow himself to pretend. Pretend _what_ , exactly? That she'd grown to love him? That he could make her happy? That he was anything to her other than a means to an end, perhaps even disposable once she'd gotten what she wanted out of him? Fool!

Why couldn't she be like other women? Damn it, he was a _king!_ If she'd been anyone else, she would've been honored by his attentions, wishing only to please him in exchange for the slightest possibility she might someday become his queen. That was how it worked – others before her had counted being with him as their only ambition, knowing that capturing his heart meant wealth, power, and position beyond their wildest dreams. Why couldn't that be enough for her?

But the more Cenred thought about it, the more he had to admit to himself that the differences were a large part of the appeal. Morgause was the only woman who hadn't flattered him at every turn, all sweetness and simpers as she fell into his arms without even the slightest resistance. She'd never presented herself as a beggar clinging to his sleeve, hungry for any scrap of attention he might toss her way. Prideful, arrogant, full of sharp words and insults, she had a way of doing exactly what she pleased at any given moment, whether he liked it or not. 

Yes, he loved her precisely because she _didn't_ make it easy, adored her for being the only woman he'd ever known who expected to be treated as an equal. But was it worth everything he might lose in the process? Cenred had never been a man to gamble against the odds or take unnecessary chances. He'd certainly never been afraid of a challenge… but he'd also never accepted one without being fairly certain of emerging victorious.

Love and doubt fought a vicious battle as he waited, the latter compelling him to throw away Morgause's messages instructing him to meet her at the border with an army. But then the former arose to insist that he make arrangements for enough weaponry and supplies, just in case…

On and on he debated the issue, need and instinct demanding he rush to her side as requested even as the logical part of his mind insisted that no king worthy of the title would place the lives of hundreds of soldiers at risk just to earn a woman's affections. After all, Essetir had no stake in this battle – relations with the kingdom of Camelot might be strained, but they'd never escalated to open warfare.

Didn't Morgause understand how much she was asking of him? The sacrifice of countless soldiers, the potential devastation a war might bring to his lands and citizens, the risk that he might even be supplanted as ruler while embroiled in such an unnecessary conflict? How could she request that he put everything he had on the line, and do so as casually as one might request a cup of ale?

A second missive and then a third went without response, and Cenred chose not to react with anything but distant amusement when one of his spies brought the report that King Uther was suffering from some mysterious affliction of the brain. Raving like a madman, it was said, blubbering like a baby with claims of seeing dead people everywhere he looked. Privately, Cenred had to give Morgause credit for that, but it still wasn't enough to encourage him to offer his support. Incapacitating the king was all well and good, but that still didn't take into account Prince Arthur, nor hundreds upon hundreds of the most highly trained knights to be found in all the five kingdoms. It still did nothing to change the fact that they'd be severely outnumbered, or that the Citadel itself was impenetrable.

No, in good conscience, Cenred couldn't bring himself to pit his own forces against such heavy opposition. Not even for her.

* * *

That resolve held firm until the morning she barged into the throne room with no warning aside from the pair of guards she left lying unconscious. _That's a matter we need to discuss at some point_ , he mused idly to himself, as he tried not to linger on the thought that she was somehow even lovelier than the last time he'd seen her. Everyone in the castle knew Morgause was free to come and go as she pleased – there was no need for her to go around knocking perfectly good men out of commission.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" he said almost lazily, pleased that he still had the ability to sound so unaffected.

"If you will not leave your castle, then I must come to you."

"I see that you've lost none of your audacity."

"I wish I could say the same. But I find the great King Cenred cowering in his chambers when he should've met me at the border. Perhaps he has lost his nerve. Perhaps he is a coward."

The woman was goading him. How was it possible to be completely aware that he was being manipulated, and yet no less susceptible to it? He wanted to rage at her, to make it abundantly clear that he didn't give a damn about her foolish war and let her know just how much he resented her attempts to use him as her pawn. Part of him didn't even want to intervene when his guards advanced on her in response to the insult to their king, on the off chance that one of them might score a fatal blow before she incapacitated them all.

It was only a momentary impulse, however, a reaction to long months of frustration rather than any real wish to see her harmed. He held up a staying hand, and weapons were sheathed once more.

"You're very beautiful when you're angry," he said softly. And that was the madness in all of this, that even when she drove him to his wit's end, his desire for her made everything else seem insignificant in comparison. If only she'd stayed away… it was easy enough to rely on logic and common sense with her at a safe distance. With her standing before him, however, those dark eyes flashing at him in much the same way they had while in the throes of passion, it was much more difficult to remember a legitimate reason for refusing her anything she wanted.

"Is that why you continue to defy me?"

He had to smile at that. "Well, you wouldn't like it if I made it easy for you."

* * *

Cenred was right in pointing out that she enjoyed his resistance, of course, though it was something Morgause hadn't realized until that moment. She hadn't understood why she'd felt almost… _relieved_ when he hadn't presented her with his army upon her initial request, especially when his refusal to comply with her wishes had necessitated the further postponement of something she'd already been forced to put on hold for more than two decades. Indeed, she'd killed men for lesser reasons. And yet there was something _different_ about the man pouring her wine… what was it, exactly?

And then she knew.

Respect. She _respected_ him, which was unlike anything she'd felt for others she'd used to further her own ends. Those with a specific purpose were supposed to submit to her without question and then be summarily discarded when their usefulness ran out. But Cenred… she _liked_ the way he challenged her, appreciated that he wasn't afraid to question any part of a plan that left him in doubt. He had good instincts and a keen mind – no match for her own intelligence, of course, but far above the brainless sycophants she was accustomed to dealing with. And that was why she let him get away with it; having another clever mind at her disposal could indeed prove useful someday.

She had to be careful, however – it wouldn't be wise to allow him to start thinking he had any advantage over her. He didn't, naturally, but the assumption of one could create unnecessary complications. And so she would tolerate his resistance to a point, as long as he submitted to her wishes when she was ready for him to do so.

As it turned out, the matter was settled in less than an hour – tomorrow, they would make war upon Camelot and dispose of both the king and his feebleminded son. But tonight, with sweet wine coursing through her veins and a hunger that had been denied for far too long, there was only one thought on Morgause's mind.

"Cenred…"

But he was already there, pushing up her skirts as he urged her to lie back on the table, fumbling at her bodice with a desperation that held none of his usual finesse. There was no thought for preliminaries, only ripped velvet and leather breeches half unlaced, skin already slick with sweat as his fingers dug into her thighs and pulled her forward. 

_Now, Cenred, I need it now…_ but she didn't even have time to say so, only to moan and writhe against the hardness that was already probing at her entrance. He slammed into her with a force that knocked the breath from her body, breath that was released in a wordless scream that mingled with the ragged curse that fell from his lips as he buried himself inside her.

And then he was thrusting, fast and hard and deep, his head thrown back and eyes closed as he gave voice to his passion, a scattering of broken words punctuated by helpless groans. He told her many things in that moment, things he probably never intended for her to know, but would likely never remember in any case. Morgause heard it all, even as she was brought to release by the feeling of him inside her and the hand that had crept between her legs to help him along. He wanted her, needed her, had dreamed of nothing but this since the moment she'd left him. He was lost without her, and… and…

He said it at the exact moment he came, spilling himself with a violent shudder as that single word ricocheted off the chamber walls.

_Love._

That wasn't the surprising thing – Morgause had heard it a hundred times from any number of men she'd held in her thrall over the years. No, the real shock was in the urge to say it back that came upon her in that moment. Fleeting, already a distant memory by the time he'd lifted himself off of her and begun to lace his breeches, but jarring nonetheless. She excused it as temporary madness brought on by going without physical pleasure for just a little too long. It couldn't be anything more than that… she wasn't the type of woman to waste her time on such foolishness.

Besides, she had a kingdom to usurp on the morrow; now was not the time for meaningless distractions.

"I'll see you in the morning," she told him as she wrapped her cloak around the shredded remains of her bodice. "At the border, as we planned."

"You'll not be spending the night in my chamber?" he asked, unable to keep the disappointment from his voice.

"No."

And just like that, she disappeared in a swirl of mist.


	6. Siege

#  **Chapter 6: Siege**

* * *

"Uther's not the only one who's lost his damn mind," Cenred muttered to himself as he stared out across the vast expanse of gathered forces setting up camp in the valley below. "I should call the whole thing off and march them straight back to Essetir."

But something had changed during the journey to the border, urging him to continue upon this treacherous path despite his reservations. The desire to please Morgause remained his strongest motivation, of course, but the coming siege was also affecting him in other ways he didn't quite understand just yet. 

It had started with the heady feeling of power that had come over him upon seeing hundreds of soldiers in perfect formation, ready to act at his slightest command. He'd been able to boast of a substantial army ever since he'd inherited his crown, of course, but never before had they all been brought together for something of this magnitude. It wasn't just his own men either – scores of mercenaries had responded to the summons as well, clearly after whatever spoils might be involved in the sacking of the richest city in five kingdoms.

Greedy bastards… well as long as they could fight, why question their reasons for doing so? If they succeeded…

Cenred couldn't allow himself to think about that just yet, not when the entire operation was balanced on a knife's edge and so many things could still go terribly wrong. It wasn't that he didn't have faith in Morgause; it was difficult not to believe that victory was within their grasp when she plotted and schemed with such unwavering certainty. But this accomplice of hers was another matter, especially when she refused to even disclose their name.

"Don't you see, Cenred? Your strength of numbers combined with the strongest magic Camelot has ever seen. We can't possibly fail!"

They could be defeated in any number of ways, actually, whether magic was involved or not, but he'd elected not to mention anything to that effect. Morgause wouldn't pay any heed to his reservations anyway, and he wasn't in the mood to be labeled a coward – her favorite insult whenever he chose to approach any given situation with a fair amount of caution.

Although he was a capable commander in his own right, it had been his father who'd devoted his life to large-scale warfare, not Cenred himself. Having spent his childhood watching the bloody, exhausting, and ultimately futile attempts to conquer all and sundry, he'd found it far more preferable to simply defend his own kingdom whenever the need should arise and leave it at that. He was an undisputed leader, blessed with youth, wealth, and good looks, and no one truly threatening had ever stood against him. What more could a man ask for?

Nothing in truth, though Cenred was beginning to understand why his father had never been content to stay home and enjoy the considerable power he'd already possessed. The air was thick with anticipation, an almost palpable electricity radiating from hundreds of men who shared a single thought – what they were about to do could very well change the course of history. It was hard to resist that sort of fervor, for what man didn't dream of taking part in a story that would someday become legend?

"Sire, do you require anything?"

Startled by the interruption, Cenred shook his head and waved the lieutenant away. The rest of his personal guard left him alone after that, quite accustomed to their master's fluctuating moods after so many years of faithful service. Good men, each and every one of them… they'd follow him to hell and back at the slightest command. 

But with that kind of loyalty also came a responsibility that a woman like Morgause couldn't possibly understand – the obligation to consider their interests as well as his own. She spoke of his soldiers as if they were disposable, a means to an end and nothing more, having no awareness of the deep camaraderie that existed between a commander and those who served him.

The mercenaries were irrelevant – they could be cut down like sheaves of wheat and it would make little difference. But Cenred's own army, men he'd personally trained and fought alongside in countless minor skirmishes… could he really stand aside and watch them die on the morrow if the battle turned against them?

The hours ticked by as he remained lost in thought; before he knew it, the sun was rising and he hadn't had a wink of sleep. Irrelevant, really, since every nerve in his body fairly crackled with a restless energy that made weariness seem like a foreign concept.

"Move out!" he called just a few minutes later, breathing deeply as the steady vibration of hundreds of hooves pounded in rhythm with his racing heart. Riding ahead at a fast and furious pace, it wasn't long before he spotted her, a cascade of golden curls glinting in the bright morning sunlight as her eyes flashed with an excitement he'd only ever seen in moments of desperate passion. Suddenly, it wasn't so difficult to push his doubts aside and allow himself to be swept away upon a wave of anticipation. Just imagining her gratitude when he handed her everything she'd ever wanted on a silver platter…

"My dear Morgause."

"Cenred."

"My army shall be here by nightfall," he said, gratified to receive a genuine smile in response. "I'm glad that pleases you."

"I'll wait and see if you deliver before I say I'm pleased."

It was a direct challenge, one that set his blood on fire and overwhelmed him with the urge to take her right then and there in the middle of the field. But no… better to restrain himself for now and embrace the opportunity to show her he could be everything she expected and much more besides. Then perhaps he could finally have what _he_ wanted… the right to possess her in ways that went far beyond physical pleasure.

"And when I do?" he said softly.

"Then I will give you a feast you will never forget."

Well, that was certainly enough to satisfy him for the time being.

* * *

Cenred was drunk on a heady cocktail of lust and power by the time his troops had amassed just outside the walls of Camelot. Yes, just hours away from the city falling into his hands, only to be presented as the ultimate gift to the woman he loved. Perhaps she was right – the battle would go off without a hitch, and the might of their combined power in the aftermath would be beyond comprehension. Together they could rule the world, without a single enemy in all the five kingdoms that could stand against them.

The strength of his imagination was enough to carry him through the first half of the battle, effectively silencing the lingering doubts that still played about the edges of his consciousness. And it was with an air of unrestrained triumph that he rode back to her side as the night deepened around them, proclaiming that the lower town was now in their possession.

"That will hardly fill the pages of history. What of the Citadel itself?"

He sighed, struggling to ignore the slight twinge of resentment on behalf of the men who'd fought tirelessly for more than three hours to achieve such a victory. Perhaps it wasn't everything she wanted, but couldn't the woman give credit where credit was due? And what had she done… where was this secret weapon she'd used to sell him on the idea of an open siege in the first place?

"Their defenses are strong," he reminded her rather pointedly. "Time for you to deliver your side of the bargain."

"Patience, Cenred. You will not be disappointed."

Half an hour later and he was seething with impotent fury, brought crashing back to reality by the sight of dozens of corpses littering the ground in the distance. He wasn't close enough to recognize most of the fallen soldiers, but it was impossible to miss the head of flaming red hair as a tall, broad shouldered figure collapsed to his knees, then fell facedown in the mud. Meilyr… one of Essetir's best soldiers, a steady and dependable warrior who'd been around since long before Cenred had inherited his crown. He'd been a veteran of countless battles, loved and respected by all. Cenred had the sinking feeling that his death, no doubt among countless others, would weigh upon his conscience for the rest of his life.

"Enough of your games, Morgause," he snapped irritably. "What has happened to your traitor?"

"For such a great king, you have very little patience."

Damn the woman… how could she sit there looking so cool and unperturbed when good men were dying all around them with no end in sight?

"The time for patience is over!"

Anger soon descended into an overpowering urge to yank her from her horse and strangle her, when he finally realized what was happening in the distance. _This_ was her failproof plan? He'd been led to expect some mighty force of allies, imbued with all the powers of magic. An army of sorcerers, perhaps, or maybe even an uprising of Druids; peaceful or not, they certainly had the strength of numbers to change the course of the future if they chose to do so. 

But no… all Morgause had to offer was a handful of clattering skeletons, mindless drones who could hardly be expected to possess the conviction they so desperately needed if they were to win this battle. What a fool he was… he'd _known_ better, and still had allowed himself to be manipulated with exaggerated promises and outright lies. And all for what? Morgause cared nothing for him; believing it could ever be otherwise had been a waste of time, resources, and precious lives.

That was all upon his head – she might've offered the poison, but he was the one who'd chosen to drink it. Yes, he'd downed it in one swallow and then allowed countless innocents to lick the cup when he'd finished.

He was so resigned to inevitable failure by then that it came as no surprise when the ragtag collection of skeletons abruptly disintegrated into so much dust. With that, the facade was over – his ill advised siege upon a kingdom that was twice as strong as his own had ever been, all for love of a woman who saw him as nothing more than a hapless pawn in her treacherous games. He couldn't even say he was sorry, couldn't bring himself to dwell on his numerous failures. All he wanted was to gather what was left of his troops and make his way home.

"Your traitor has failed us, just as I knew they would," he said flatly. "I'm calling off the siege."

"You can't!"

"I cannot take the city unaided. That was not our bargain!"

He couldn't, and damned if he was willing to keep trying to no avail. He'd gotten a taste of war, sweetly intoxicating in the beginning, but like so many things in life, enough to make a man sick with regret if he overindulged. The same could be said for Morgause herself, who was looking at him with an expression of utter contempt that would've crushed him just hours before. 

Now? He felt nothing.

"You have failed me, Cenred."

"I would rather fail you, Morgause, than watch thousands of men die."

If she couldn't understand that, then he was well rid of her.

* * *

 _Miserable coward!_ She should've _known_ better than to trust him, and it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him so in the most brutal terms imaginable. Oh yes, and many other things besides… starting with the fact that a softhearted king had no business being king at all. She'd seen that look in his eyes, a nauseating combination of sadness and regret that had no place on the battlefield. The sentimental fool… he'd ruined _everything_.

True, casualties were always… unfortunate. But that was the reality of war, and any man who couldn't stomach it might as well put on a gown and spend the rest of his days immersing himself in fairytales and needlepoint. Foolish, worthless… did he not know there would always be more to take the place of those who'd fallen? Could he not see that even the slightest chance of victory was far more important than nameless soldiers whose only purpose was to live and die according to the dictates of their betters?

Such thoughts were harsh even by Morgause's standards, but she was simply too furious to care anymore. Too many failures, so many years squandered upon a desperate need for vengeance that never came to pass. They'd been close… so painfully close… and once again, it had all been for nothing. 

Watching Cenred as he knelt beside one of the stiffening bodies on the ground, she snorted in disgust as he bowed his head in obvious grief. The man had given his life for a worthy cause… what need was there to treat his death as if it had been some great tragedy?

No, the _real_ atrocity was Uther Pendragon, still very much alive and free to continue his tyranny. And there was a world of difference between the loss of common soldiers who'd willingly signed up to make such a sacrifice, and the vicious slaughter of countless innocents who'd committed no crime other than having been born with the gift of magic. 

If Cenred wished to squander his time mourning _anyone_ , he should save his tears for those who were far more worthy of them – her own people, forced to live in secrecy and constant fear lest they end up like so many of their brethren – beaten, bloodied, beheaded, burned at the stake, as the man who'd condemned them smiled in response to their screams of agony. 

Yes, an honorable death on the battlefield was _nothing_ compared to that.

In the end, however, there were far more important matters to attend to than dishing out the humiliation her former ally so richly deserved. She needed to confirm Morgana's safety, then see if she could discover why the mighty power of the Rowan staff had failed. It couldn't be any flaw with her sister's magic – there was no mistaking the pure, raw power that had set the city walls to trembling at the moment of impact. Morgana was well on her way to becoming a formidable priestess; the most important thing now was to determine what forces presented themselves as obstacles and then destroy them, one by one.

Cenred was free to return to Essetir and resume his miserable existence with no further interference from Morgause. She'd find better allies, those who'd never question her judgment or show weakness at the most crucial moment. And when she did… well, this unfortunate incident would be nothing more than a faint memory. Come what may, she wouldn't stop until Uther was dead and the kingdom of Camelot was firmly under her control.

And all the mercy in the world wouldn't help those who had the audacity to stand in her way.


	7. Aftermath

#  **Chapter 7: Aftermath**

* * *

"Sire? There's a woman outside begging for an audience."

Morgause? No... she would've barged right in, not meekly awaited his permission.

Cenred sighed, then paused to take a long sip of ale. It was a prerequisite for everything these days, starting first thing in the morning and continuing until late at night, when sleep finally became more of a temptation than the contents of the bottle that was never far from his grasp.

"I thought I said no visitors outside of urgent business. And by "urgent", I meant they'd better be bringing news of some major catastrophe or a direct threat to the kingdom. Is that the case with our guest?"

"Not exactly, sire, but…"

"Then tell her to come back later. Better yet, how about never?"

The guard opened his mouth then closed it again, cowering in the king's presence. This was one of the new recruits, a ragtag group of half-grown boys brought in to fill positions that had once belonged to seasoned fighters and loyal friends. It was nothing short of a mockery, really, but Cenred hadn't found the motivation to locate and train more appropriate replacements.

"Sire, I… I…"

"Just spit it out," he muttered irritably.

"She's pretty banged up, sire. That is, she... she's bleeding. She said... that is..."

"No doubt she'll have bled to death by the time you finish. Why is she here?"

"To seek your mercy, sire."

That prompted a laugh, a harsh, hollow sound that echoed through the hall. "Fine, bring her in," Cenred said carelessly. "Better to get a bit of blood on my floors than sit here and watch you piss yourself."

The boy scampered out of the room, soon returning with a small figure clinging to his arm. Her cloak was filthy, ripped in several places, and indeed, there was a dark stain spreading out from her shoulder. Cenred studied her for a moment, noting the way she was swaying on her feet, before turning to the guard with another flash of irritation.

"Well? Help her to a chair!"

"My apologies, sire, I…"

But the woman had already slumped to the ground.

* * *

"Is she dead?"

If the old healer was perturbed by Cenred's curt tone, he didn't show it. Shaking his head, he responded, "She lives, my king. Several superficial wounds, but it was the arrow she took in her shoulder that was the biggest cause for concern. Removed the fragments and patched her up a bit. She's in for a rough few days – lost a lot of blood and no doubt fever is to be expected. But I imagine she'll pull through."

"Did she say anything to indicate her purpose in coming here?"

"Well, she seems to be a Druid, but…"

Cenred let out an impatient sigh. "I know a Druid when I see one. Anything else?"

"No, sire."

"Very well. I'm to be notified as soon as she's recovered enough to speak with me. You are dismissed."

Several days later, the guard came to make the report, his eyes darting around like a frightened rabbit as he managed to stutter out that the woman was doing better, ready to receive the king at his convenience. Maddening boy… yes, it was definitely time to hire more competent guards, then assign this one to patrolling the outer perimeters where he'd never have to deal with him.

Without hesitation, Cenred rose from his throne and made his way through the corridors. Despite his valiant efforts to not give a damn about anything as of late, he'd always had the misfortune of being a curious man. Besides, it was highly unusual that a Druid would come here to seek his help – while he never made any move to restrict their presence in his kingdom, they were a secretive people with a tendency to take care of themselves.

That was the primary reason Cenred had always found it easy to coexist with them. They gave nothing, but by the same token, they didn't ask for anything in return.

Entering the chamber without bothering to knock, his eyes fell upon the bed, a large, sumptuous thing that practically swallowed the slender figure of the woman who was lying there. She was young, hardly more than a girl at first glance. But he quickly realized that was only an illusion – the girlishness of her auburn ringlets, wide, guileless eyes, and a smattering of freckles on her nose belying the fact that she was indeed a full-grown woman.

His gaze lingered on her breasts, large and full, straining against the fabric of her nightgown. Yes, _definitely_ a woman… and to his surprise, the first since Morgause to arouse him as her nipples grew hard under his perusal. Suddenly, he couldn't tear his eyes away from those round, ripe buds, clearly outlined through…

And then they were gone, shielded from his view by the blanket she hastily clutched to her chest.

Cenred wasn't the type of man to apologize – indeed, no king worthy of the title would lower himself through seeking forgiveness from those of lesser rank. But something about this woman… perhaps the genuine bewilderment in her expression or just the fact that she was still injured and completely at his mercy, prompted the words before he could stop himself.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

She studied him in silence as he settled himself into a chair beside the bed, her eyes reminding him of the rich, deep hue of evergreen trees set against a snowy landscape. It was a fair comparison – she was still extremely pale, her skin almost translucent aside from the shadows beneath her eyes.

"You are the king?" she finally said, her voice soft and tremulous.

"Obviously," he responded with a brittle smirk, struggling to regain some facsimile of the typical harsh manner that had sustained him as of late.

"Forgive me, but I could hardly be expected to know that. It's not as if I've ever seen you before."

He gave her a skeptical look. "You were brought before me just a few days ago."

"Yes," she agreed, giving him a sweet if somewhat wary smile. "But if you recall, I lost consciousness before I had a chance to…"

"Fine," he interrupted, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. This was one more unfortunate reminder of Morgause, another woman with a talent for making him feel like a fool. And yet it was different somehow – Morgause had done so with deliberate intent, going out of her way to find any opportunity to humble or humiliate him. That didn't seem to be the case here, as the redhead lowered her eyes with a guilty expression.

"I'm sorry, my lord, I…"

"My king," he corrected her. "'Your Highness' or 'sire' will also suffice."

"Forgive me, sire," she tried again. "I meant no disrespect, especially in light of all the kindness you've shown me."

"Kindness?" he echoed with a frown.

"Yes. The services of your healer, food and clothing and a safe place to recover from my injuries? Were it not for you, I'd be dead. I don't know how I can ever repay you."

The most obvious answer flashed through Cenred's mind as his eyes dropped to her chest again, those lovely swells back on display as the blanket slid down to rest in her lap. One tantalizing image of easing that scrap of a nightgown over her head, running his hands over flesh which would no doubt be soft and pale as moonlight beneath his touch…

Clearing his throat abruptly, he shifted in an effort to ease the uncomfortable tightness in his breeches. What was wrong with him?

It had been too long. Yes, that's what the problem was. He hadn't bedded a woman since Morgause, and that had been how many weeks ago? No, more than that… over two months. Gods, no wonder he was reacting like a stallion around a mare in heat. Probably didn't help matters that he was more than a little drunk either.

Dignity. Right, stern and dignified. He was supposed to be a king.

"I'm afraid you've mistaken kindness for simple curiosity," he finally said, taking pains to sound nonchalant. "Had I allowed you to die at my feet, I would've never discovered your reason for coming here. Being as I so rarely encounter one of your kind…"

"I came to seek your help, sire," she said softly, staring down at the hands that were resting in her lap. "Not for myself, but for my people."

Cenred raised an eyebrow. "I already do a great deal to assist the Druids. You're granted safe passage throughout my kingdom, and there have been orders in place for many years to ensure you're not molested."

"Yes, my king, all of which we are truly grateful for. Believe me, I…"

"But it isn't enough," he interrupted in a flat voice. "That's what you've come to tell me."

The woman shook her head, curls tumbling over her shoulders in disarray. "I would never suggest that, but…"

"There's always a 'but', isn't there?" Cenred sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Well, might as well get on with it then. Tell me what it is you want from me."

"Sire, soldiers from Camelot have found our sanctuary again. Only a small patrol this time, but there were several casualties, and…" she trailed off, raising a hand to touch her injured shoulder. "This is the third time in as many years. We venture deeper into the forest with every attack, but it never seems to be enough. The soldiers just keep coming, and…"

"What do you expect me to do about it?" he said irritably. It wasn't that he was bothered by a request for help. No, it was the reminder that since Essetir's army had been severely depleted through his foolish lack of judgment, defenses weren't half as strong as they'd once been. It didn't help matters to be given proof of what he'd already suspected – that in light of his stunning defeat, Camelot's forces were growing bolder by the day, assuming they had little to fear in trespassing upon the lands of such a weak opponent.

She hesitated, obviously well aware of his anger. It was a credit to her quiet courage that she continued nonetheless. "There's a cave, sire. It is large and well sheltered, with a good water source nearby. If we were permitted to make it our home…"

"So why haven't you?" he interrupted with a frown. "I've never placed any restrictions upon where the Druids are allowed to live within the forest."

"It's not that simple. You see, the cave is already inhabited. There's a group of bandits – outlaws, poachers, and thieves. They…"

"But your people have magic. Couldn't you just…?"

She shook her head before he could finish. "We are a peaceful people, sire. It would not be in our nature to commit violence in order to secure ourselves a place to live."

Unable to help himself, he let out a sardonic chuckle. "Oh, I see. Better to ask others to do the dirty work for you."

"That's not… you're a king! I only thought that you were the one person who might be able to provide a solution without bloodshed. With so much power, so many resources at your disposal, it just seems…"

"What would you know about being a king?" he shot back. "Do you think I can just make all your problems disappear with a wave of my hand? The world doesn't work that way. Nothing can be gained without blood, brutality, loss of life, and…"

But he trailed off at the look in her eyes, so sad and earnest it left him feeling positively gutted.

"If you truly believe that," she said, her voice filled with hopeless resignation. "Then it seems I've wasted my time here. Thank you for your assistance. I'll be on my way as soon as I'm well enough to travel."

"Wait a minute…"

"Please, sire, I'm afraid this conversation has drained me of what little strength I have. I'd like to rest now."

* * *

Five minutes later, Cenred was seated on his throne once more, tipping back a fresh jug of wine as he wondered why in the hell he'd allowed himself to be dismissed with such little ceremony. Unbelievable… as if she'd been the queen while he was just some humble citizen begging for favors.

Once he'd reconciled himself with that, comforted by the excuse that he'd been bored and ready to leave anyway, it was the challenge in her eyes that left him feeling ill at ease. Again, comparisons to Morgause were inevitable, being as she was the only other woman who'd ever dared to question his judgment.

But again, the difference was obvious. Morgause had taunted him mercilessly, calling him spineless and a coward when he'd put up even a token resistance to her plans. This woman, however, had uncovered weaknesses that even Morgause had never touched. There'd been no outrage in her soft green gaze, no trace of resentment or contempt. No, what he'd seen there was infinitely worse… sincere faith, followed by crushing disappointment.

Why should he care what she thought of him? Hell, he didn't even know her name.

_"If you truly believe that, then it seems I've wasted my time here."_

Insufferable wench. What did she know about ruling a kingdom? No doubt she'd spent her life running around picking berries, kindling fires, and preparing meals. She had no idea…

His thoughts were interrupted as a maidservant entered the hall, carrying a platter of roasted venison and steamed vegetables. But it wasn't the food that caught his attention – granted, she was somewhat plain, with hair the color of weathered wood and a face that seemed permanently fixed in an expression of studied disinterest. But she had a nice backside, large and round, as well as a pair of tits that bordered on enormous.

Yes, an adequate distraction, which was exactly what he needed.

* * *

An hour later, Cenred was draped over his throne, breeches still unfastened as he wiped the heavy sheen of sweat from his brow. It hadn't been bad – difficult to find complaint with handfuls of soft female flesh and a warm place to stick it. But even in the midst of the act, with a willing woman down on her hands and knees in front of him, he'd been plagued by thoughts that would've never troubled him in the past.

Did she really desire him, or was it merely the fact that he was king that had earned him such an easy submission? What would Morgause say if she could see him now, rutting on the floor with a plump little kitchen maid? And what about the Druid woman? What would she think of him mindlessly using others for his own pleasure?

Reaching his climax had not been easy, regardless of how long he'd gone without. In the end, finding release had necessitated tightly shut eyes and a memory plucked from his subconscious – Morgause bent over the throne, crying out his name like a plea for mercy as he'd driven into her like a man possessed.

_"If you truly believe that, then it seems I've wasted my time here."_

Damn, where had that come from? Cenred stared moodily at nothing as he raised the jug to his lips. Apparently the valiant attempt to fuck himself into oblivion hadn't been enough to drive the words away. Maybe drinking would do the trick.

* * *

"Sire?"

Cenred groaned, lifting his head ever so slightly before letting it fall again. Instead of the pillows he'd expected, however, it was hard, unforgiving wood his skull came in contact with, sending fresh jabs of agony shooting through a brain that was already suffering the effects of a splitting headache.

"Gods," he muttered, not realizing the empty jug was still in his hand until it slipped through his fingers and shattered all over the floor. Opening his eyes, he squinted against the harsh light as he realized several things at once – he'd passed out right here in the throne room, his breeches were still pushed down around his thighs, and the timid young guard was staring right at his cock, for all that he was pretending not to be.

And that was the moment Cenred decided it had gone too far, this desperate attempt to run away from his troubles. All the wine in the world wasn't going to change the fact that he still longed for Morgause, nor would it compensate for the follies he'd committed in an effort to prove his love to her. No… drinking himself into a stupor couldn't chase away the disappointment he'd seen in the Druid woman's eyes, or the fact that deep down, he knew why it bothered him so much.

Following a hot bath and a good breakfast, consumed with water instead of wine, he was even ready to face that reason. She'd been right – it _was_ within his power to help the Druids, with or without bloodshed. He just hadn't wanted to be bothered with the problem… much as he'd avoided any other thought of actually doing something useful over these recent months.

Yes, he'd given up. One crushing defeat and he'd surrendered, choosing to bury himself rather than deal with the consequences of his actions. Weak. Pathetic. Coward. A disappointed look from a stranger might not have accomplished much on its own, but in mirroring how he felt about himself, she'd inadvertently brought him back to his senses.

Frankly, Cenred wasn't sure whether he should be thanking or cursing her for that.

* * *

She looked better when he visited her chamber later that morning; he immediately noticed the slight bloom of color in her cheeks as she gave him a cautious smile. Of course, most commoners would know that it was a terrible breach of etiquette to speak before being given leave to do so, but she proved her ignorance once again as she blurted out an apology.

"About yesterday, sire, please forgive…"

Cenred held up a hand to stop her. "Troops have already been dispatched to deal with the situation."

She looked up at him with wide eyes. "Will the bandits be killed?"

"No. I've given orders for them to be removed to the Castle of Fyrien. I see no reason why they wouldn't go willingly – the place is more or less a ruin, but it's still a solid fortress and better suited to their needs."

He elected not to mention that realizing the bandits might be of use to him had been a major factor in dealing with them so gently. Why do anything to spoil the look on her face, a heady mixture of admiration, relief, and joy? Besides, he earned himself a brilliant smile – that alone was worth what amounted to a relatively minor action on his part.

"Oh, sire…"

"Yes, well…" He cleared his throat, not sure how to deal with her obvious approval, especially when he couldn't begin to understand why he was enjoying it so much. "I wouldn't have Camelot believe they can attack my citizens with impunity. It's better this way."

"Thank you," she said softly. "If there's ever anything I can do to…"

But she never got a chance to finish; just then, there was a knock on the door.

"Sire," the guard said when he'd been granted entrance. "I… that is… there's a woman here to see you."

Cenred rolled his eyes. "Again? Well, tell her she'll have to wait."

"I tried, but… well, she said it was urgent, and… if I didn't bring you to her with all due haste, she'd just come and find you herself. I'm sorry, sire, I… the lady said her name was…"

"Morgause," Cenred finished with a sigh.


	8. Regression

#  **Chapter 8: Regression**

* * *

Morgause wasn't nervous… at least, that was what she kept telling herself as she waited in the throne room. She was a master at bending others to her will, getting exactly what she wanted out of them no matter how much they tried to resist. Cenred would be no different, regardless of how unpleasant their previous parting had been.

Glancing down at herself, she smoothed her hands over the gown that clung to her like a second skin. A deliberate choice, of course, breasts so scantily covered they might spill over at any moment, every inch of her lovely figure put on tantalizing display. Even the color was calculated – white like freshly driven snow, evoking thoughts of purity and innocence.

It was the perfect, most irresistible contradiction, one she used to her fullest advantage as Cenred entered the room. She gave him her sweetest, most guileless smile, just as she sucked in a deep breath to make her nipples stand out in sharp relief against the thin fabric. Was he looking? Oh yes… he was glaring daggers by the time his eyes reached hers, but she'd recognized that unmistakable flash of hunger beforehand.

"What are you doing here?"

"Cenred," she responded, making an effort to keep her voice soft and tremulous. "How good it is to see you!"

His expression was guarded as he stalked over to the throne, taking a seat without offering her the same. "I repeat," he said stiffly. "What are you doing here? What do you want from me this time?"

She affected a pout. "Is that any way to speak to an old… friend?"

That prompted a harsh, curiously bitter laugh. "Whatever we might've been, Morgause, we were never friends."

"Lovers?" she offered, letting the word hang between them. Something stirred inside her, an unexpected reaction to the pain she saw reflected back at her from a pair of deep brown eyes. She wanted to make it go away, and not only so she might gain his assistance with her schemes again. It was as if… well, she just didn't like it.

"Lovers?" he finally echoed, giving her a cutting look. "Oh, no… that would suggest some form of affection, which you've never harbored for me. Try again."

Morgause frowned, realizing this wasn't going to be as easy as she'd assumed. No, lust and flattery and a few sweet smiles would not erase the betrayal that was still so clear in his expression. To gain what she wanted, her pride would have to be the sacrifice, vulnerability offered up like a lamb to the butcher's block. If there was no truth behind the words she was about to say, it might be easier, but she knew better… solitary nights filled with some strange emotion she'd finally been forced to acknowledge as regret had made it all too clear.

"You're wrong," she told him, the words spoken in barely more than a whisper as she forced them from her throat. "I do… care for you, Cenred. More than I ever realized."

He snorted in disbelief, but there was a flash of uncertainty in his stare. "Do you think me a fool? No, Morgause. You'd say anything to further your own ends. Why not spare us both this unfortunate scene and get to the point? I liked you much better when you were frank with me. Heartless or not, at least that wasn't an insult to my intelligence."

"Very well. I've come to apologize, to see what I can do to make amends for my mistakes."

"And what mistakes would those be?"

She sucked in a deep breath, pushing away her continued belief that he was the one who was responsible for the failure of their plans. If he hadn't withdrawn his army, if he'd just… but no, there was no changing it now. The past didn't matter… it was having him on her side in the future that could make all the difference.

"I should've never pushed you into laying siege to Camelot. That was a terrible folly on my part – too rash, too eager, blind to the consequences, especially for you. I…"

"I believe you left out 'selfish.'" He leaned back against his throne, raising one eyebrow as he waited for her to continue.

Biting back a sharp retort, she made herself agree. "Yes, I was… selfish. I should've thought things through, should've respected your judgment, especially when it came to your own men."

"Is the great Morgause finally admitting she might not have all the answers?"

In any other situation, the man would be writhing in agony for daring to speak to her this way. Perhaps someday she'd make that happen, but in the meantime, she needed him. Some of those needs were easier to reconcile than others, of course, but he was far from being disposable in any case. Not yet.

And so she nodded, doing her best to appear humbled, even ashamed.

"Sit down."

With those two simple words, she knew she'd won.

* * *

Cenred made love to Morgause gently that night… no bending her over the throne or taking her up against the wall in some forgotten corner, pushing her skirts out of the way before pounding into her like a battering ram. No, he led her to his own chamber, slowly undressing her amidst the softest of kisses, and then pleasuring her with hands and mouth before giving any thought to himself.

Even the act itself was surprisingly tender with her nestled in his lap, his arms holding her close against his body, lips only leaving hers to press kisses against the side of her neck or whisper something sensual in her ear. She was perfectly in tune with the mood he craved, rocking her hips back and forth almost leisurely in the soft candlelight.

It was only an illusion – he knew that even as he spilled himself inside her with a satisfied grunt. The anger was still there, of course, as was a great deal of skepticism regarding her motivations. Even stronger than those was the crushing disappointment of loving a woman who didn't understand the meaning of the word and probably never would.

No, it wasn't believing that kept him bound to her – he was beyond that now. It was _wanting_ to believe, to cling to those fleeting moments where he could almost forget who and what she really was. 

In truth, perhaps that was all it had ever been.

But as the weeks passed and she remained at his side, generous with her affections with no mention of the single-minded obsession that had driven them apart in the past, everything began to change. Morgause was like a different woman, free with her kisses or a lingering embrace, speaking to him with eyes filled with so much sincerity that he simply forgot how to distrust her.

Indeed, he would've marched on Camelot all over again if the spoils of victory had meant keeping her this way forever.

It was three months later when she said the one thing he would've never expected to hear from her lips. She was lying in his arms, both still panting in the aftermath of lovemaking that had been unusually vigorous even by their lofty standards, when she whispered to him in the darkness.

He acknowledged it with a grunt, too lost in a haze of blissful exhaustion to even realize what she'd said at first.

_"I love you."_

But then it echoed in his head, again and again, the barest breath of air slamming into him with the force of a mighty tempest.

_"I love you."_

After that, nothing else mattered… not even when she unveiled the next nefarious scheme in her eternal quest to bring the kingdom of Camelot to its knees. Why should he care? If she loved him, truly loved him, there was no reason to be anything other than her staunchest ally. Besides, she'd learned from her mistakes, showing much more consideration this time around… no potential war or valuable soldiers put at risk.

This was nothing more than a simple kidnapping… well, perhaps not so simple, but at least there was little to lose. The Castle of Fyrien was remote enough that Cenred himself would never be implicated if they succeeded, and frankly, he couldn't care less what happened to a handful of miserable bandits in the process. If they played their parts well, they'd have a future in his service. If not… a few less criminals in the kingdom was no cause for distress.

Yes, he'd prove himself to her this time, exceed her expectations beyond all imagining. Vengeance for her, and perhaps a little for himself to soothe the sting of his previous defeat. Gratitude, that was all he wanted when it was over… along with the possibility that she might reward him with the greatest prize of all.

Queen Morgause. It had a nice ring to it.

* * *

The sight was intensely erotic – Cenred prowling around the terrified maidservant like some feral beast ready to move in for the kill. Morgause was tempted to go to him, to force the cowering girl to watch as she stripped him naked, then dropped to her knees to pleasure him with her mouth. Or even better, maybe she'd spread herself across the ground and let him pound away between her thighs, relishing the girl's horrified expression as they rutted right in front of her.

No… there'd be plenty of time for that later.

" _Enough!_ " Cenred growled in response to Guinevere's meek protests. "You will bring Arthur here. I don't care how you do it, all I care is that it is done. You have a week."

"And if I do not?"

"Then I'll let you watch while I tear your brother's heart out."

Yes, it was a brilliant plan. Cenred had arranged for the captures, executed flawlessly in both cases. And if everything Morgana had said was true, Arthur would rush into danger without a second thought at one word from his precious Guinevere. Why wouldn't he? He was one of those insufferable hero types – no caution, no forethought, only a sword in his hand and some silly vow upon his lips.

"Mmmm…" she hummed as a pair of leather clad arms encircled her from behind. He was already fully aroused – she could feel his hardness pressing up against her, sense the heady excitement thrumming through his body. Yet another reason this scheme was perfect – he was actively enjoying himself, strutting around making threats, looking to her for approval each time he did so. Never had he been so enthusiastic in helping her further her ambitions, nor had he ever been so willing to abandon his reservations in favor of what could only be described as sadistic delight.

Yes, she could certainly get used to this… an impression that only grew stronger as without warning, he picked her up and carried her to the bedchamber he'd commandeered for their use.

Even so, he started gently, lips barely brushing her shoulder, palms cradling her breasts as if they were some delicate treasure that must be handled with the utmost care. No, this wouldn't do at all. Her need was primal, savage… if her senses were the hunger, then brutality was the only way to ensure she was properly fed.

"Not like that, Cenred," she breathed, unable to keep the impatience out of her voice.

"No? Then tell me," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly against her ear. "I am yours to command."

That prompted a soft laugh as she pulled out of his arms. "I was hoping it would be the other way around."

Something hot flashed in his eyes, a trace of the feverish light she'd seen when he'd been taunting the serving girl. That prompted another thought, one that made her lips curve into a wicked smile as she lowered herself onto the bed. "Is she gone yet?"

"I don't believe so," he said casually, releasing the fastenings of those ridiculous leather garments he favored. Absurd, perhaps, but undeniably appealing. "I gave orders that she was to be allowed one more chance to see her brother. A final reminder of what's at stake, you know."

"Cruel indeed. Honestly, Cenred, I was beginning to believe you didn't have it in you."

Completely naked, he sauntered over to the bed, his erection thick and heavy as his eyes blazed a slow trail down the length of her body. "You underestimate me, my lady. To please you, I'm capable of any number of things, many of which you haven't even begun to imagine."

"Oh?" She raised a deliberately skeptical eyebrow. "What if I told you I envied that serving girl?"

He snorted. "I can't imagine why. What could she possibly have that you don't?"

"Your brutality. Your complete lack of mercy."

The words were nothing more than a whisper, but the meaning was loud and clear. It was all there in his eyes – curiosity and hot desire, at war with a great deal of uncertainty. But he rose to the challenge nonetheless, leaning down to retrieve the belt he'd discarded. His movements were hesitant at first, but as she murmured in approval, he flipped her onto her stomach and bound her wrists to the bed frame.

Grabbing a fistful of her golden curls, he jerked her head back, making her hiss in response to the exquisite pain as she felt his teeth scrape against her throat.

"Is this what you want then?"

She shivered in response to his menacing growl. "It's a start."

* * *

In truth, Cenred didn't know what the hell he was doing. He cringed the first time he delivered a stinging slap to that luscious backside, but the only response was a delighted gasp, her hips lifting ever so slightly in preparation for the next blow. This one was a little harder, swifter, followed by a lingering caress that sought to bring some relief to her reddened skin. A few more times, and he was beginning to understand the appeal, striking her fast and hard as her moans of pleasure mingled with his satisfied grunts.

"More!" she cried out when he hesitated ever so slightly, and his first instinct was to give her exactly what she asked for. But then he remembered her earlier words, withdrawing his hand as he moved to whisper in her ear.

"I thought I was the one who was giving the commands tonight."

He smiled to himself as he felt her quiver. "So you are," she readily agreed.

It wasn't the infliction of pain that drove him after that, so out of his mind with wanting that it was all he could do to prolong the game rather than shoving it in and finishing himself off with a few frantic thrusts. No, it was the power… the illusion that a woman who couldn't be tamed was completely under his control. He was drunk on it, compelled to test one boundary after another just to see how much he could get away with.

He untied her bindings then, strangely aroused by the raw abrasions on her wrists as he shifted her onto her back, then bound her even more tightly than before. She was reclining against the pillows as he rose to straddle her, sticking his cock in her face with a curt command to suck it.

Surprising him again, she obeyed with a great deal of enthusiasm, her hungry moans vibrating against his sensitive skin as her mouth slid up and down in a swift, intensely pleasurable rhythm that could have pushed him over the edge in a matter of minutes. Not too much of that… no, he was far from finished with her.

The blindfold was a stroke of genius, as was the tip of his sword that followed, making her tremble with excitement as he dragged it ever so lightly over the contours of her body. Powerful indeed… she was panting softly, golden skin shimmering with sweat in the candlelight as the cold, unforgiving metal glided over her breasts, coming to rest just above her heart.

Applying just enough pressure to draw forth a single drop of blood, Cenred leaned over to whisper in her ear. "You know, I could kill you like this. Such a simple thing… just a flick of the wrist, and I could run you straight through."

Her reaction to the words was a lusty moan, though his wasn't so easy to reconcile. In that moment, he realized it was the truth… and even more disconcerting, that some small part of him longed to do it, to put an end to his maddening obsession with this woman once and for all. No more plots and schemes, no more avoiding his suspicions as to her true motives until his life was torn apart all over again.

But it was a fleeting thing, already forgotten as he set the sword aside and continued with his hands and mouth, teeth sinking into the curve of her breast, the soft flesh of her stomach, the silky expanse of her inner thighs. He didn't bite hard enough to draw blood, but she'd wear the marks of his passion for weeks to come, each tiny brand proclaiming that she belonged to him and no other.

"Cenred, please…"

Unable to prolong the game any longer, he tore away her blindfold as he drove into her with a savage thrust, followed by a grunt of pleasure that must've been loud enough to be heard on the other side of the fortress. He held her eyes as he pounded into her, the words coming to him without conscious thought as she moaned and writhed beneath the onslaught.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice thick and husky as he struggled for the words between heavy pants. "Tell me you're mine."

She nodded vigorously, her hips rising and falling in perfect time with his brutal rhythm.

It took all the restraint he had, but somehow he managed it, withdrawing completely and sinking back on his heels as he glared down at her.

She responded with what could only be described as a petulant whine. "Cenred…"

"Say it," he growled low in his throat, reaching down to stroke himself with the implicit threat that he might finish himself off without giving her the satisfaction she craved.

"I'm yours!" she gasped out. "Only yours. Please, I need…"

But her words were lost in a ragged cry as he buried himself deep inside her again, bracing himself on one arm as he reached up with the other to unfasten her restraints. Yes, that was what he wanted – fingernails digging into his shoulders, his back, rivulets of blood mingling with a thick sheen of perspiration as he lost himself in her slick, wet heat.

There was something else he wanted to hear, but he was too far gone to remember what it was, so intent on the desperate need for release that he hardly noticed when hers came upon her, marked by breathless sobs and a violent shudder before she went limp beneath his straining body.

"Gods," he muttered, his voice raw and strangled as he finally spilled himself in waves of blinding hot pleasure, too drained to move by the time it was over. Thankfully, that wasn't necessary – she held his weight well as he slumped in her arms, pressing his face against her neck with an exhausted grunt.

"Cenred?" she whispered a few minutes later, just as the night air had begun to cool his heated skin. He turned his head to brush a kiss across her cheek, wanting nothing more than to stay this way forever, to just…

"When Arthur arrives…"

Flopping over onto his back, he let out a heavy sigh. Didn't the damnable woman think about anything else?


	9. Ultimatum

#  **Chapter 9: Ultimatum**

* * *

This latest failure was beyond Morgause's comprehension.

What had gone wrong? It had been executed flawlessly; Arthur had indeed attempted to rescue his sweetheart's brother, with no protection at his disposal beyond a pair of useless servants. It should have been a simple thing – she'd already been inwardly celebrating her victory as she'd cast the spell that should've burned him to cinders, putting Morgana first in line to the throne.

But instead… she gingerly pressed her fingers to the lump on the back of her head, trying not to notice as Cenred shot her a baleful glare. He was cradling his fractured arm, making a much bigger deal out of the minor injury than was merited as far as she was concerned. Truly, he could be irritating beyond belief when he wanted to be.

Their lack of success might've been easier to come to terms with if it had been his fault, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't lay the blame on his shoulders. No… the spell itself had failed. But how? She'd cast that incantation a hundred times, never resulting in any ill effects other than those suffered by whoever had been unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end.

And yet the backlash couldn't be denied – a powerful magical resistance that had rendered both herself and Cenred unconscious, while Arthur and his friends had escaped without further incident.

That had been three days ago. Since then, their injuries had been tended to by the wary bandits, grubby faces tense and fearful in anticipation of the fury of their king and the punishment to follow.

Of course, that never happened; Cenred knew the truth as well as she did. He never acknowledged it in so many words, but it was there in every look he cast in her direction – silent accusation, followed by a strange unease that she'd finally identified as a mixture of resignation and the expectation of impending doom.

Obviously, he assumed she'd abandon him like she had after the previous incident, which was made abundantly clear when she told him she was going to visit Morgana a few days later.

"You're not coming back," he said flatly.

"Cenred! Of course I am… unless you'd prefer that I didn't."

Despite his expression of forced nonchalance, there was no disguising the sudden flare of hope in his eyes. Yes, despite his current irritation, he was still wrapped around her finger. And that was just as it should be.

"I'll be returning to my own fortress tomorrow. When can I expect to see you there?"

"No more than a week," she promised, rising up on her tip toes to brush her lips against his. "I promise."

* * *

Despite his relief at being home, Cenred was sorely tempted to lose himself in drink like he'd done the last time he'd found himself alone, frustrated and angry with no way of knowing if Morgause would ever return. He was every bit as lost as he'd been before, of course, but becoming a miserable drunk wasn't going to do anything to improve the situation. He'd learned that the hard way, a humiliating amount of self degradation reflected at him through the eyes of a Druid woman.

Where was she now, the pretty redhead who'd inspired him to an act of kindness just when he'd started to believe he was no longer capable of such things? In truth, he'd barely thought of her since the morning he'd visited her chamber, too preoccupied by Morgause's return to care about anything else.

Why did he put himself through this torture? If the latest failure had taught him anything, it was that it was unlikely he'd ever be able to give her what she wanted. No matter how well plotted their schemes might be, seemingly failproof, it was as if the fates themselves were working against them. She hadn't unleashed her wrath upon him this time, but surely she had to realize by now that there was little he could do to further her ambitions.

A week to the day since he'd last seen her, Cenred took a leisurely bath, cleaning and grooming himself as if he expected her arrival at any moment. Pathetic. What reason did she have to come back? And truthfully, wouldn't he be better off if she didn't?

But then just a few hours later, seated on his throne with every intention of getting thoroughly drunk, he glanced up in amazement as she swept into the hall.

"You look surprised to see me." When he said nothing in response, she added, "You thought I wouldn't return."

"Yes," he admitted, simply because she'd know he was lying if he denied it, and would probably take it upon herself to call him out on the matter.

"You still think that all I want from you has to do with my ambitions."

He shrugged. "Sometimes."

"Well," she said, moving closer with a sly smile on her lips. "Give me a chance to prove otherwise."

* * *

Another few months passed without incident. Morgause was often away, but never for more than a couple days, perhaps a week here and there. It was much like the blissful time they'd enjoyed before the failed abduction had occurred – making love almost constantly, sharing meals and drinks, along with the barbed repertoire they both relished so much. Cenred wasn't foolish enough to believe she'd given up on her plans… no, not this time. But why not make the most of what he had in the moment?

Morgause was off on another trip to see Morgana when the visitor was ushered into the throne room. Both surprised and intrigued, Cenred waved her to a chair and called for refreshments.

"I didn't think to ever see you again."

The redhead nodded in acknowledgment, studying her hands rather than meeting his eyes. She really was uncommonly lovely – without the pallor of recent illness, she was all rosy cheeks and shining curls, lush lips and captivating green eyes. If it wasn't for Morgause…

"I'm sorry, sire," she finally said, interrupting his thoughts. "It was rude to leave so abruptly, especially after you'd been so kind to me. I just…"

He waved that away, electing not to mention that her departure had barely even registered at the time. "You seem to be doing better," he commented instead, reaching over to pour her a cup of wine. "I take it your new home suits you?"

"It does, sire."

"No more problems from Camelot's soldiers?"

"None at all."

He nodded, then folded his hands in his lap. "What can I do for you then? Or is this merely a courtesy visit to let me know you're alive and well?"

"Sire, I…" she trailed off, looking flustered. "That is, in light of your previous kindness, I wanted to return the favor."

"That's not necessary. As I said, it was beneficial to the kingdom as a whole to allow the Druids to relocate."

"Be that as it may, I still feel indebted to you. I'd like to do something to help you in return."

Cenred wondered if she had come to offer herself to him, taking a moment to study those large, lush breasts that had captured his interest before. He wouldn't go through with it, of course, being a loyal fool to Morgause as long as she was his in some capacity. But it would be flattering nonetheless – the willingness of a beautiful woman was always something to be appreciated.

"What would that be?" he prompted her.

"I've come to bring you a warning."

"A warning?" He frowned. "You mean to threaten me?"

"No!" she exclaimed, looking appalled at the idea. "No, of course not. Sire, I'm… well, I'm a seer, which means…"

"I know what a seer is. I happen to be well acquainted with one. Continue."

"You're in grave danger. I know it. I've seen it. This woman… light colored hair and eyes as dark as pitch? She will destroy you."

Cenred let out a humorless chuckle. "Tell me something I don't know."

"I'm serious, I…"

"I can see that."

Ignoring his underwhelmed reaction, she continued with haunted eyes. "I saw an army. Hundreds and hundreds of soldiers dressed for war. It seemed as if they were under your command, but in truth, they were hers. I saw one of them drive a blade through your body. What they did after that, the atrocities they committed…"

"Morgause doesn't have an army."

"She won't unless you give it to her."

He shook his head, raising the cup to his lips. "That will never happen. Whatever men I command, they follow me without question. I wouldn't have it any other way."

The Druid woman let out a sigh of resignation. "When the time comes, I hope you remember that. In any case, I must be going now – my people are expecting my return."

"Wait," he suddenly said as she rose to leave. "You never told me your name."

"Lila."

* * *

The key was to prepare Cenred beforehand, making sure he consumed half a dozen goblets of wine during the course of the evening. When he was fully relaxed, sprawled across his throne with that hazy look of intoxication in his eyes, that was the time to lean over and stroke the inside of his thigh. Following that came a wicked smile, hand sliding up to caress the erection that was straining against unforgiving leather, begging to be released.

"Ready for bed, dear lady?" His voice was husky and filled with promise as he rose to his feet, but she was already shaking her head.

"I have something else in mind."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "Do tell."

"Take your breeches off."

"I'm liking the sound of this already."

"The rest of it, too," she added as an afterthought as she reached up to unfasten her dress.

When Cenred was completely naked, leather vestments tossed carelessly aside, she pushed against his chest until he settled himself upon his throne once more. Kneeling at his feet, she laid her cheek against his thigh, gazing up at him through soft, vulnerable eyes. Indeed, the perfect picture of submission… he was already lost, staring down at her with an expression that promised the world if she asked it of him.

"There's something I want…" she murmured, hiding a smile as he shuddered in response to her hot breath ghosting across his skin.

"As always," he said, though there was no trace of caution in his tone, not even a hint of suspicion in his eyes. He was beyond that, too preoccupied by his swiftly growing arousal to care. Yes, just how she wanted him.

Leaning forward, she treated his testicles to a lingering lick, eliciting a ragged groan. "Something I want… and only you can give it to me."

"Anything," he promised, burying one hand in her hair and applying subtle pressure, seeking the stimulation he was beginning to crave with a desperation that left him completely at her mercy. "Anything you want. Just…"

But she wasn't finished with this game. Not yet.

"You are king, Cenred," she purred, the words filled with calculated deference. "Rich, powerful…" And then she paused, biting her lip as her fingers danced in a slow trail along his rigid length. "Very powerful indeed. Who would dare to question your judgment?"

He managed a smirk, though his breath was coming in heavy pants. "You do. Quite frequently, as a matter of fact."

She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the head of his erection, then swiftly pulling back as he lifted his hips in the instinctive need to slide himself into her mouth.

"Gods, Morgause, this is torture! Just tell me what you want, for the love of…"

"Power. Yours and mine. Let me show you…"

Rising to her feet, she draped her body over his, ignoring the thrill of desire that shot through her as his tongue flickered out to taste a taut nipple. She slid her hand along the wall behind his head, locating the summons bell and giving it a sharp jab.

"What are you doing?"

But she said nothing as she dropped to the floor again, smiling to herself as the timid young guard came rushing into the room.

"Sire, I… oh, forgive me! I heard… that is, I thought…"

"Come over here, boy," she commanded sweetly.

"What are you playing at?" Cenred hissed under his breath, staring down at her with wary eyes as the guard approached.

Morgause ignored him. "Boy, can't you see that your king is hot?"

"Yes, but… um, I don't… shall I fetch some wine?"

"Are you blind? There are three jugs sitting right here."

"Then what…?"

"I want you to fan him. Keep him cool while he receives his pleasure."

Unable to help himself, Cenred let out a chuckle. Yes, she'd calculated this one correctly – he was amused by the thought, perhaps even aroused by the shamelessness of it all. The spell worked flawlessly as she transformed a pair of leather breeches into a ridiculously ostentatious fan crafted from peacock feathers.

"I hope you can change that back," he told her lazily as the fresh breeze wafted over them both.

"What do you care?" She flashed him a mischievous smile as she leaned forward to resume her attentions. "Power, remember? With a snap of your fingers, you could have a hundred replacements."

The summoning of the guard had distracted him somewhat, but a single lick brought him back under her control, his face an exquisite mask of both pleasure and pain as she continued to tease him with the barest hint of what he truly wanted. It couldn't last much longer… no, the discomfort would become too much if she wasn't careful.

"Power," she repeated upon a breathy moan, drawing him fully into her mouth.

Cenred let out a sigh of relief, his head hitting the wall behind him with a soft thud. It was good that his eyes were closed – hers were fixed directly on the guard who was still waving the fan with jerky movements. Awkward and embarrassed he might be, but also intensely aroused… that much was obvious by the sweat beading his forehead, the feverish light in his eyes. She might've ordered him to join in, but no… Cenred was sure to be the jealous type, and the last thing she wanted to do was risk his displeasure at this crucial moment.

Instead, she brought him right to the brink before sinking back on her heels, silencing his groan of protest with a brutal kiss as she rose to straddle his lap. She hardly had the chance to position him at her entrance before he began to thrust, driving up into her with a frenzy of ragged curses and harsh grunts. She'd pushed him too far, his sweat drenched body undulating against hers for only a matter of minutes before he found his release in a series of erratic pulses, coupled with a hoarse shout. 

Startled, the boy dropped the fan, watching in horror as it hit the floor with a loud clatter.

Cenred lifted his head from her shoulder, fixing the guard with a glare that could hardly be described as menacing, being as his eyes weren't even in focus. "Why are you still here? Get out."

"Cenred," she cooed in mock disapproval. "Such a brute you are. No manners at all."

He let out a breathless chuckle, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. "I'm not the one who forced him to watch."

"Forced? I rather think he enjoyed it."

But the boy was already forgotten as Cenred leaned back on his throne, reaching up to cup her face in both hands. She saw it in his eyes then, even before she felt it in the tenderness of a slow, deep kiss. Yes, this was exactly how she wanted him, vulnerable to the point of defenseless as all other thought was overpowered by his love for her. It didn't happen often these days – too many disappointments, too much suspicion leading him to keep his affection under careful control. 

"I love you," she murmured, the words sticking in her throat as they always did on the rare occasions she felt it necessary to utter them. How much easier it would be if they were a lie…

He released a shuddering sigh, wrapping his arms more tightly around her as he buried his face in her hair. It was equal parts safety and terror, the realization that the one thing he truly wanted was to possess her body and soul for the rest of their lives.

And in that moment, it hit her – she was his Camelot. 

This wasn't simply love or an overpowering desire. It was a single-minded obsession, a cause he would never abandon until he got exactly what he wanted. True, she had the upper hand at the moment, but with a determination as strong as her own, the future would always be uncertain. How could she rely upon him when support could be given or taken away at will, or even twisted to a horrifying degree just to earn her submission? Even now, it was on the tip of her tongue to offer him the world if he'd give her the army she needed.

She would still do so, of course, but it was infinitely more frightening now that she realized what was at stake. It wasn't just the potential success or failure of this latest scheme, but the consequences to follow. When she refused to make good on her promises, what would he do? Everything in his power to take away the prize he'd helped her win, no doubt, if only to draw her back to his side. And as skilled as she was at bending him to her will, his potential to do so in return could not be ignored. Everything she wanted, everything she hoped to achieve at Morgana's side…

No. As much as she wanted to be with this man, even loved him in her own peculiar way, she'd have to let him go. Only Morgana could hold sway over her heart – anyone else was a distraction, a nuisance, a threat to their future ambitions. No, men like Cenred were meant to be used and then discarded. It was as simple as that.

Oblivious to her inner conflict, he sought out her mouth again, his cock still buried inside her as it began to stiffen once more. It seemed her declaration of love was responsible for this newfound arousal; the urgency was gone, replaced by tenderness as he reached down to guide her hips in a slow, leisurely rhythm.

"Cenred?"

"Mmmm?" he responded, lifting his head to gaze at her with heavy lidded eyes.

"There's something I want."

His breath was coming in soft pants as she increased the friction between them. "Yes, so you said. Something about power? Gods, keep moving like that. Yes…"

"Yours and mine," she reminded him, then nearly lost her train of thought with a helpless whimper. "I… Camelot…"

She felt him tense beneath her, followed by an exasperated sigh. " _Now_ , Morgause?" And before she realized what was happening, he was lifting her off of him, then rising from the throne to pace the room.

"Wait, you don't understand…"

That prompted a harsh laugh as he stalked back over to retrieve a jug of wine. "Another scheme, one that can't possibly fail?"

"Yes, but…"

He held up a hand to silence her. "I've heard it all before, Morgause, and I've had enough. You're so obsessed that you can't even…" Trailing off on a grunt of frustration, he glanced down at his swiftly fading erection. "How many times must we go through this before you accept that _it will never happen?_ "

"It's different this time, I…"

"Tell me something," he interrupted, his eyes blazing as he came to stand in front of her. "What if I refuse? What if I tell you I will never, _ever_ play a part in these plans of yours again? Will you leave me?"

"No, of course not."

"Liar."

"Cenred…" All right, it was time to bring the situation back under her control. "I just want to give it one more try. For Morgana's sake. But this is the last time, I…"

He snorted. "Right. Even if that's true, which I sincerely doubt, what's in it for me? I'm _tired_ of this, Morgause, I just want to…"

"You're right – I haven't been fair to you. Maybe there was a time when I only saw you as a means to an end, but there's so much more between us now. You know that as well as I do."

He nodded, remaining silent as he waited for her to continue.

"I'm a selfish, greedy woman, Cenred. I've never pretended otherwise. But after everything we've been through together, what we've shared, there's something else I desire just as much as Camelot."

"And that would be?"

"You. This. _Us._ "

He sucked in a sharp breath. "What are you saying, Morgause?"

"I'm offering a compromise. Help me just this one last time, and it will be for you to name the reward. Anything you want from me, it shall be yours. And I promise that if we don't succeed in this attempt, I will never so much as mention it again."

There were several long moments of silence as he stared at her in disbelief. "What if I wanted you to marry me, to live out the rest of your days as my wife and queen? What if that was the price I chose to demand in exchange for my assistance?"

She swallowed an onslaught of emotion, uncharacteristic longing mingled with paralyzing fear. Meeting his eyes with an unwavering stare, she said, "Then I'd agree. Without hesitation."

He released a shuddering sigh as he dropped onto his throne. "Do you mean it, Morgause? Because if you don't…"

Giving him the sincerest smile she could manage, she settled herself on his lap again, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss before responding. "If you still doubt me, we can bring someone here tomorrow to perform the rite. Hardly befitting a future queen to have it done with such little ceremony, of course, but if that's what you want…"

"I just want you," he muttered, preoccupied by the arousal that was returning in full force as she shifted against him with a series of calculated movements. "Anything else is a minor detail."

"But the plan…" she trailed off on a gasp as he slid himself inside her. "Don't you want to know…?"

"Later."


	10. Cessation

#  **Chapter 10: Cessation**

* * *

They were lying in bed, bodies closely entwined, when Morgause finally got around to telling Cenred her plan.

" _Immortal?_ " With a great deal of effort, he managed to swallow the laughter that bubbled up in his throat. "You can't be serious."

"Did I not raise the Knights of Medhir from the dead? And what of the skeletons that emerged from the crypts of Camelot to fight at my behest?"

"Fair enough," he acknowledged, electing not to mention that immortality had lasted no more than a few hours in either case. "I do not doubt your powers, Morgause. But surely some things are beyond even your control."

Expecting a sharp retort, he was surprised when she only snuggled closer, resting her head on his shoulder. "Well," she whispered, her voice thick with drowsiness. "I'll be looking forward to proving you wrong."

"Indeed, that seems to be one of your greatest pleasures in life."

She managed nothing more than a soft laugh before she was fast asleep in his arms.

Had she meant it, her promise to marry him when all was said and done? That question kept him awake for quite some time, the eternal battle between hope and skepticism that defined his feelings for her. In the end, the former triumphed – it was hard to pay much heed to his suspicions as she lay sleeping in his embrace, lovely features soft and innocent in slumber, silhouetted by a halo of golden curls. Illusions… they'd been a crucial part of his existence for as long as he could remember, sometimes more real than reality itself.

Holding her close, he stroked her hair, pressed the softest of kisses to her eyelids, her nose and mouth, one hand caressing the silky skin of her back as his eyes finally drifted closed.

* * *

Morgause was not the most patient of women. She proved that in spades as she prowled around the throne room like some caged animal, testing his own carefully restrained temper with the occasional sharp barb or cutting remark. For someone so reliant upon him as a means to further her ambitions, one would think she'd treat him with a little more respect. That was doubly true, considering that their past failures were hardly his fault.

But somehow, he endured her sporadic abuse, becoming as anxious as she was after Arthur was spotted in the kingdom and troops had been dispatched to capture him. Gods, he wanted this plan to work… to put it all behind them and never have to worry about it again.

Of course, it didn't help that all hope rested in some cup they might not even be able to locate, not to mention the absurd notion that it had the power to render his entire army immortal.

"Stop doing that!"

He raised his head, giving her a quizzical look. "Sitting here?"

"No, tapping your foot. It's driving me to distraction."

Rolling his eyes, he managed something between a grimace and a smile. "I'm restless, Morgause, which you of all people should understand. Wearing down the stones with all that pacing you're doing, and I haven't said a word about it, have I?"

"Fine. I'll stop when you do."

He forced himself to sit still as she came to stand beside him. "You know, there's one thing that might help us pass the time…"

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you propositioning me, Cenred? If so, I'm not in the mood."

"Of course not," he said smoothly, not bothering to clarify whether it was in response to the first statement or the second. "Perhaps some wine then?"

"Very well."

Several more hours passed, a maddening interim that dragged by with all the urgency of a snail passing through spilled treacle. Mercifully, Morgause left him to his own devices after a while, claiming she wanted to take a bath while informing him in no uncertain terms that he wasn't invited.

Infuriating woman… why was she punishing him for a failure that hadn't even happened yet?

And then at long last, the scouts arrived to give their report, which wasn't exactly promising. Cenred braced himself as he sent a guard to summon her, prepared for the onslaught that came bursting into the hall with a flurry of wild curls and muttered curses.

"How could you let this happen?!" she demanded, glaring at him with so much resentment in her eyes that it was hard to believe he'd ever seen so much as a trace of softness there. "You let Arthur slip through your fingers!"

"He was taken before my men could get to him."

"Taken? By whom exactly?"

"The slave trader, Jarl. He's been working our western border for months."

"And you let him?" She needn't have bothered with that appalled expression – he knew her too well to imagine she'd be the least bit offended by the idea of slavery.

"We have an understanding. He doesn't bother me, and I don't bother him."

"And where is this Jarl now?"

It was all he could do to suppress his own quickly rising irritation. A simple mistake, nothing more… sometimes the woman really did seem to expect the impossible. "Don't worry, Morgause. I'll find him soon enough."

"See that you do!" she snapped, not troubling to hide the unspoken message in her menacing glare.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you threatening me?"

"Trust me, Cenred… when I'm threatening you, you'll know about it."

Bitch.

* * *

In the end, he took it upon himself to ride out with a small troop of men, locating and capturing their quarry with relative ease. They were gone for no more than an hour, much of that time spent with Cenred silently fuming, eventually coming to the conclusion that he must've been insane for ever wanting Morgause in the first place.

But as with every flash of clarity, it didn't last, shattered to bits as soon as she entered the throne room again. Her eyes grew wide in response to his smug expression, immediately dropping to the heavy golden chalice that was resting in his lap.

"Cenred…" she breathed, her voice soft and awestruck.

"I believe this is what you were looking for?"

She nodded vigorously, coming closer to trail one finger around the rim. "I've always heard it was a glorious thing, but _this_ … can you feel its power? No, I don't suppose you can," she responded for him before he had a chance to open his mouth. "But you will see it. Oh yes…"

"This pleases you, my lady?"

"It does. Keep it safe for me; I'll be back shortly."

She returned almost immediately with the timid guard following close on her heels. He was carrying a crate, holding it far from his body with an expression of disgust.

"Put it down," she commanded, her voice trembling with excitement. "There, in front of the king."

"What's this?" Cenred inquired as the boy scurried to do her bidding.

Kneeling beside the crate and lifting the lid, she paused to flash him a brilliant smile. "Call it a demonstration."

"Rats?" He frowned as she reached up to take the cup from his hands.

"Give me one of your swords, Cenred."

He smirked down at her. "Planning to kill me then?"

"Not at the moment," she said with a trace of impatience. "Just hand it over. There, that wasn't so hard, was it? Now observe…"

One by one, she nicked the rats with the tip of the blade, just enough to dribble a little blood into the cup before placing them back in the crate.

"I'm sure my father would be pleased to know that his treasured swords were being used to carve up rodents," he commented dryly.

"Hush, Cenred. Just watch."

When she finished with whatever strange ritual she was performing, she raised the cup above her head, reciting a lengthy spell in a low, ominous voice.

"There," she said breathlessly. "Now try to kill them."

Resigned to the experiment, Cenred skewered the first, watching in disbelief as it began to squirm, working its way down the blade until it dropped back in the box with no trace of what should have been a fatal injury. The second was tossed into the fire, emerging almost leisurely to sniff at a discarded crust of bread.

"Remember what I did to your friend Jarl this afternoon?"

He scowled, still a little put out over the pointless slaying of a man that could have proved useful in the future.

"I see that you do. Now watch."

Holding out her hand, she uttered the same spell that had sent Jarl crashing into the wall with a force that had killed him instantly. The rat slammed into the ceiling, letting out a squeak of surprise as it dropped to the floor with a sickening thud. But again, there was no trace of injury – the creature wasn't even limping as it scuttled out of sight.

"So, you've given me the gift of pests that will trouble me for the rest of my days. Thank you, Morgause."

She rose to her feet, surprising him as she paused to brush a kiss across his lips. "The rats will outlive you, to be sure, but do you understand what this means?"

It had been a low buzz in the back of his mind, but then he looked up at her as it hit him full force, his mouth falling open in disbelief. "It's real."

"So it is," she agreed with a self-satisfied smirk. "Power beyond comprehension, Cenred. Will you reach out and take it?"

He hesitated, troubled by some faint voice that seemed to caution against this very thing. But the memory was a fleeting one, fading to nothing when replaced by the sheer enormity of what was being offered to him. No more defeat, no more unfortunate deaths of good fighting men. The kingdom, and indeed the entire world, would be his to command. What force could hope to stand against him?

"I will," he finally responded without a trace of uncertainty in his voice.

"The most powerful man in existence." She settled herself in his lap, tickling his ear with soft gusts of breath that made him shiver as she spoke. "A king with unquestionable dominion over everything he wishes to possess. How very… arousing."

"I'm pleased you think so," he murmured, his voice coming out as a low, husky growl as he reached up to tug at the intricately tied laces of her bodice. "Now take this off so I can bend you over this throne and have my way with you."

"As you command, my king."

Another hour passed, one filled with harsh grunts and breathless sobs of pleasure, before they set about the business of conquering the world in truth. Orders were dispatched, the mighty force of Cenred's army soon gathered in the courtyard in perfect formation as Morgause emerged, cradling the cup between her trembling hands.

Cenred was positively drunk on the promise of so much power, his body quivering with excitement. Nonetheless, one final trace of caution prompted him to reach for her arm, stopping her short.

"Every one of these men will be invincible. How can we be sure they will not turn against us?"

She gave him a confident smile. "They'll follow their commander without question. It's all part of the spell."

And then there was no more room for doubt.

"Loyal friends!" he called out, looking over familiar faces and new ones alike with a great deal of satisfaction. "Our time is at hand. From today, no sword will fell you. No spear will stop you short. Your blood will not be spilled in vain, but in victory! You march with the mightiest weapon of them all… _Immortality!_ "

* * *

The bloodletting was a lengthy process, but the ritual was completed at last, followed by orders to march upon Camelot with all due haste. Cenred hesitated at first, a lifetime of knowledge insisting that it was best to allow for a good night's sleep so the soldiers might start fresh in the morning. But then he remembered there was no need for rest, for food… no reason to concern himself over the dangers involved in traveling through darkness.

Indeed, they truly were invincible.

"Magnificent, aren't they?" he commented to Morgause, flush with pride as he watched the long columns winding away from the fortress, illuminated by the light of hundreds of torches. "My army of immortals."

" _Your_ army?"

He shrugged. "Well, they are my men."

"Correction – they _were_ your men. It is I who made them immortal. They're bound to me now."

What was she playing at? "Do not think for one moment that you can cross me, my lady."

"Cross you? Never!"

But that was immediately contradicted by the spell, her words harsh and guttural as one of the remaining soldiers lifted his sword. It was only then that Cenred remembered the Druid's warning, too little and much too late.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, still desperate to believe that this was nothing more than a game, a harmless play for power, just a momentary…

"Have I not always been honest with you, Cenred?"

"Stop," he ordered, given no choice but to draw and defend himself as the soldier advanced upon him. "You answer to me, not to her."

The words accomplished nothing – it was kill or be killed. But surely Morgause knew this barely trained recruit was no match for him? Yes, this was only a test, nothing more.

It wasn't until he ran the man through, horrified to receive nothing more than a quizzical look in response, that he realized what was happening. Immortal, undefeatable… dear gods, she really _did_ mean to murder him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Undaunted, his opponent came at him again, hitting harder, faster, far more brutal than before. Cenred was swiftly beginning to tire, inwardly cursing himself for spending all his time in bed with a treacherous woman rather than devoted to the relentless training that had once been the biggest priority in his life.

"Morgause," he pleaded, no longer giving a damn about dignity or whatever else he might be sacrificing in the process. Let her keep his bloody army, march upon Camelot and never return to this place if that's what she wanted. Just let him live… 

"Morgause, make him stop. _Make him stop!_ "

But it was all for nothing as he was disarmed and knocked to the floor, helpless and terrified as he stared into the eyes of death. They didn't belong to the soldier who was poised above him, arms raised high in preparation to deliver the fatal blow. No, they were _her_ eyes… dark as pitch, cold and calculating, a truth that could no longer be denied in this final moment.

He meant nothing to her. No, and he never had.

"Did I not say that when I threatened you, you'd know about it?" she said sweetly, without even a trace of regret in her expression. "Well, now you know."

"Morgause, please..."

At her signal, the blade came crashing down, driving into his midsection with an explosion of agony that rose to eclipse all other awareness. His eyes squeezed shut, everything around him reduced to a low buzz as the awful severing sensation radiated outward in torturous waves, pulsing in perfect time with the blood that seeped from the wound. 

Pain, so much pain, more sharp and real than anything he'd ever known. 

_Make it stop…_

After what might have been minutes or hours, he heard Morgause leave the room, followed by deafening silence. The world was closing in around him by then, growing darker, colder… His lips parted in a feeble call for help, but that was all he could manage before he felt himself tumbling into the heavy black void that yawned before him.

It was over.


	11. Epilogue: Restoration

#  **Epilogue: Restoration**

* * *

The fortress was deserted, strangely hollow, as the cloaked figure slipped through the corridors. She'd been waiting for hours, bracing herself for the impending doom that had haunted her dreams since the last time she'd visited this place. The king hadn't heeded her warning, which was his own folly, but she couldn't just abandon him to his fate.

Of course, many of the others had disagreed. While the Druids regretted any loss of life, they also believed Cenred was responsible for his actions, condemned to this unfortunate fate by his own choosing. After all, for every act of kindness, fair judgment, or exercise in moderation, there were just as many terrible follies or instances of brutality to be laid at his feet. 

And when he'd allowed the witch to do such terrible things…

Lila shook her head, dismissing their objections. She wasn't some silly young girl looking for a hero. No, she'd recognized the darkness in King Cenred – selfishness and greed, a threat of cruelty in those deep brown eyes. But there had been much to temper that, too – more than anything, an inclination toward mercy when he could find no strong reason to deny it. In short, she couldn't help believing that under different circumstances, he might've still had the potential to be a better man.

Was that the truth, or merely her tendency to see the best in everyone? It was probably too late to answer that question now, but she had to be sure.

The witch had ridden away about an hour ago, flanked by soldiers and wearing a smug smile on her harshly beautiful features. Lila would've gone to Cenred immediately after that, but caution had dictated she wait until the fortress had been fully deserted. She'd remained in her hiding place until even the servants were gone, having slipped away alone and in pairs with awful expressions of bewilderment or sorrow on their faces. Not a good sign…

Well, if nothing else, at least she'd be here to give the man a proper burial.

* * *

Cenred came back to consciousness with a pitiful whimper, too weak to unleash the anguished screams that remained trapped in his throat. He might've thought he was already dead, that he'd awoken to some strange, dismal afterlife, were it not for the pain. Well, that and the ragged breath he sucked into his lungs, the heart that still beat feebly in his chest, and the terrible thirst that lay heavy upon his tongue.

Then he had some faint, dismal reminder of the nature of stomach wounds. Death was the inevitable result, of course, but the process was prolonged, leaving the victim to suffer for hours as they bled to death by slow degrees.

Had Morgause known that, perhaps even planned it this way? No doubt about it – if anyone was the undisputed master of inflicting suffering upon others, it was she.

Was it mercy or cruelty that any trace of love he'd once felt for her was gone? Now, too late to make any difference, the empty chasm where those inclinations had once rested was palpable, the perfect companion to the gaping wound in his stomach. Perhaps after all, it was good to be free at last… but then again, the were no longer any illusions to help him endure his suffering either, no lingering hope that she might truly love him after all.

No… she'd taken everything, his life being just one of the penalties involved in being stupid enough to let her get so close. Here at the end, there was only one thing left.

The effort was excruciating, sapping what little remained of his strength as he shifted onto his side, dragging himself across the floor by inches. Strange that the very thing that was helping him along, his body sliding with relative ease across the bloodsoaked stones, was also his torment. Cold, so cold… all he wanted was to reach his throne, to seat himself there and die with dignity… a silent proclamation that this, at least, had remained in his keeping until his final breath.

Unfortunately, he never made it that far.

* * *

Lila pressed a hand to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. Cenred's body was slumped against the base of his throne, one bloody hand still clinging to the armrest as if he'd been struggling to pull himself upright in one last show of defiance. Blood, so much blood… it was everywhere, splashes of garish color against his chalk white skin, spilled out across the ground in a gruesome display of senseless waste.

There was the fleeting comfort that perhaps his suffering had been brief, death laying claim to him without hesitation. But reality told a different story as she moved closer, suppressing a sob at the evidence of a mortally wounded man having crawled across the floor, a trail of crimson and then an unmistakable smear where he must've collapsed before continuing on in his futile quest.

And then she saw his other hand, pressed tightly against the gaping wound in his stomach. Oh, Cenred… what an awful way to die, left alone to suffer for hours on end. If only she'd come sooner, if she'd just…

But the onslaught of regret was brought to an abrupt standstill by a flicker of movement, followed by a harsh, rasping breath, and just the barest whisper of an anguished groan.

"Oh, gods…" She rushed forward, falling to her knees beside him. "Sire? _Sire!_ "

His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and filled with a world full of misery before the lids began to droop again, the valiant battle for consciousness abandoned in favor of oblivion.

"Sire, look at me. Stay with me!"

His breathing was becoming more shallow, increasingly erratic as his body went limp.

"Cenred, please…" She was sobbing openly now, prying his bloodstained hand from the throne to clasp it against her chest. Too late… far too late…

And yet it wasn't, was it? 

Reaching into her bodice, Lila withdrew a vial that was suspended on a delicate silver chain. It wasn't meant to be used for anything other than a last resort, the consequences far too heavy to squander such a gift on anyone but the most deserving. But she didn't care anymore, dismissing any thought of former crimes or past transgressions, even that it might not necessarily be a kindness to force a man to continue on in a world where he could no longer hope to lay claim to his birthright.

He had to live… no matter the cost, he had to live…

There were conflicting theories about water from the Cup of Life. Some claimed that the exchange of life was random, circumstantial, beyond human control. And then there were others who believed there was indeed some choice in the matter, plucked from the mind of the person who offered the gift.

It was a terrible thing to wish misfortune upon anyone, but given the choice between a coldhearted murderess and an innocent bystander…

Lila lifted the vial to Cenred's lips, cracked and bloodless, and then trembling with the enormous effort as he fought his way back to consciousness. He let out a moan, more feeble than a newborn babe, his tongue parched with the terrible thirst that only ever afflicted the dying. It flickered out again and again, desperate to capture the precious droplets.

"That's right, Cenred," she said in a soothing voice as she slid an arm behind his neck, cradling his head against her breast. "Drink…"

Yes, Morgause herself should pay the price for this treachery. Her suffering should be slow and deliberate, no different than the awful fate she'd inflicted upon this poor man. She should know what it was to be broken, helpless, left to linger on in a world in which there was no longer any hope for her. Cruel? Perhaps. But in Lila's mind, it seemed like justice.

And then she watched, breathless with anticipation as a bit of color began to creep back into Cenred's cheeks. His breathing gradually grew stronger, more steady, the tension in his face slowly relaxing until his features suddenly went slack with relief.

At long last, he opened his eyes, heavy with fatigue, yet free from the awful misery she'd glimpsed there just a few minutes before. "You?" he questioned in a hoarse whisper, peering up at her with an expression of bewilderment.

"Yes, sire, it's me. I…"

But she trailed off as he turned his head, nuzzling his face against the heavy swells of her breasts. "If I'd known death came with a pair of tits as fine as these," he mumbled drowsily, making her shiver as his lips moved against the thin fabric of her dress. "I might've sought it out a long time ago."

And then there was nothing to do but laugh as he fell into a deep, healing sleep right there in her arms.

* * *

Cenred would never be quite the same, a truth that went far beyond the ragged scar that spanned the length of his midsection. Gone was the desire for power, any inclination to bend others to his will. Losing his kingdom had been a heavy blow, of course, but there was a great deal of relief in it, too. Having experienced just how much a person could suffer upon the whims of another, he no longer wanted to be responsible for the decisions that often led to such things. Soldiers dying at his behest, criminals executed at a single word from his lips?

No, he wanted no part of it anymore. If that made him a coward, then so be it – all he craved was a little peace, to find some small absolution in the reassurance that the terrible follies of his past would not be repeated in the future.

Surprisingly, life with the Druids was an adjustment he made with relative ease. Everything was straightforward here – no difficult judgment calls to make or the tiresome business of running a kingdom to worry about. He ate when he was hungry, slept when he was tired, and most of all, had plenty of time for a pursuit he greatly enjoyed and happened to excel at.

When it came to the majority of practical matters, he was useless. It wasn't like he'd ever washed laundry or prepared meals, gathered fruits and berries, or built his own fires. But he could hunt, fearlessly and with a great deal of skill, something which most of his new companions viewed with a certain kind of awe. Indeed, for all that Druids craved fresh meat as much as anyone else, their distaste for violence made acquiring it a highly unpleasant ordeal.

For that reason alone, Cenred was welcomed among their numbers, saving them from the unfortunate necessity of having to kill for their own sustenance. Through his efforts, they were richly fed on venison, rabbit, and pheasant, along with plenty of other woodland creatures that inhabited the forest around them. In addition to that, he was a decent fisherman, and even proved adequate at chopping or gathering the firewood that was a constant necessity.

Meanwhile, his former existence was never mentioned. It was as if he'd been born on the day he'd arrived in this place, still weak and shaken from his terrible ordeal. The Druids had accepted him without question, generous with the services of their healers until he was back on his feet.

Only once had Iseldir, the man whom he'd soon come to understand to be their leader, given any indication as to why Cenred had enjoyed such merciful treatment.

"Any man who has granted a second chance to others deserves the same in return."

Humbled, Cenred had lowered his head, an action he'd never taken in the presence of another. "Perhaps, but my motivations in doing so…"

"Do not matter," Iseldir had interrupted with a gentle smile. "The end result is the same. Freedom… Life. Such a gift is too precious to place any judgment upon the one who bestowed it."

One night about six months after his arrival, Cenred retired to his tent, pleasantly exhausted following a long day of chasing a fine, fat buck through the forest. As soon as he realized what was waiting for him, however, any trace of weariness seemed to disappear. Shedding his clothes was a lot easier these days – comfortable garments crafted from loose cotton, not the constricting leather he'd once been so inexplicably fond of. Indeed, in more ways than one, it seemed he'd left behind a life of bondage in exchange for freedom he'd never known he wanted.

Lila was spread out across the furs, gloriously naked with those large, rose-tipped breasts already begging for his kisses, thick auburn curls framing her face like a ring of fire. Gods, she was lovely… not the harsh, savage kind of beauty he'd once been foolish enough to prefer, but something softer, sweeter, and infinitely more appealing.

He hesitated, meeting her wide green eyes with a glint of amusement in his own. "Am I mistaken, or are you trying to seduce me?"

"I missed you today," she said simply, without a trace of guile in her voice. "I just wanted to be with you as soon as possible."

Something inside him melted in response to her words, another patch of ice giving way beneath the power of warm spring sunshine. Stretching out beside her, he captured her lips with more tenderness than even Morgause had ever elicited in him, one hand skimming as gently as the touch of a butterfly's wings along the contours of her lush curves. And then she took him into herself with a breathy sigh, whispers of love given freely and without hesitation as he brought her to completion once and then again… slow and deep, just the way she liked it.

In truth, he rather preferred it that way himself.

It was a gradual process, but in the arms of a woman who knew nothing of trickery, ambition, or deceit, it was an effective one. The bitterness inside him, once a seemingly impenetrable mass of pain and mistrust, heartbreak and disappointment, faded a little more with each day that passed, distant whispers already having risen to take the place of harrowing screams.

And someday, even the faintest murmurs of regret would be forever silenced, leaving nothing but the unexpected bliss of second chances in their wake.

– o –  
 **THE END**  
– o –

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I originally intended to follow canon with this story, in which Cenred would've died at the end. But throughout the course of writing it, three things happened:

1.) I became extremely attached to him as a character and wanted a better fate for him.

2.) Upon watching the relevant episode again, I realized that though it's implied, we never actually see Cenred die. The soldier brings his blade down, yes, and Cenred loses consciousness… but we never actually see it enter his body. Connecting various details such as the fact that he clearly supported magic, obviously didn't object to the Druids living in his kingdom, and that the Cup of Life was floating around at the time, this alternative seems reasonably plausible.

3.) A dear friend of mine who has been reading this story since the beginning asked me on more than one occasion if there was some way I could allow Cenred to live.

 **JJuna** , the entirety of _Beguiled_ (particularly the epilogue) is dedicated to you. Thank you so much for being a tremendous source of inspiration and support throughout the writing of this story, and I hope you're happy with the results. :)

For everyone else, if you've enjoyed _Beguiled_ , please feel free to leave me feedback. I'd love to hear your thoughts.  
Even if you don't, however, thank you so much for reading!


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